


Nightingale

by AdrienneBlack



Series: Soldier Boy Duology [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Medicine, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sequel, Slow Burn, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 82
Words: 182,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrienneBlack/pseuds/AdrienneBlack
Summary: Two years ago Bucky Barnes was on the run, hiding from the world after seventy years as a tool of Hydra. Now he's in Wakanda, trying to undo the brainwashing hardware still locked in his mind. But the process is long, frustrating  and difficult. He can't see the end in sight, even with his best friend, Steve Rogers by his side. The crushing realities of his new situation bring about a change in events, as Bucky is ready to throw in the towel, the arrival of Melody Frasier changes all that. Two years apart has changed them both, but their love, formed in Melody's childhood home remains. But love might not be enough to keep them together as both of their pasts come back to haunt them.





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky was ready to break his nightstand as Steve continued on with his lecture. "Look Buck," his friend said, attempting to keep his voice down. Bucky didn't have to face him to know that he was getting angry. "I know this has been rough."

 _Do you?_ He wanted to ask, but kept his mouth shut. Bucky didn't feel like fighting. He had no fight left in him.

"These people, T'challa and his doctors, you know they're going to do everything they can to get that stuff out of your head. They're some of the best at what they do, they'll find something to fix you." Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve had said that from the moment they'd tried the first time. The moment right before they muttered the words: seventeen, longing, rusted, daybreak, freightcar, nine and homecoming. Right before Bucky's mind went blank and he forgot everything. Right before he turned violent and had to be restrained.

"You can't give up Buck."

Bucky grit his teeth, his pride stinging. "It's not giving up Steve. It's facing facts."

"What facts?"

"The fact that we've been at this six months, I almost killed one of the doctors, have broken God-knows how many dollars worth of equipment-and we're still _no closer_ to a solution. Those are the facts Steve." Bucky jaw tensed, ready to spit out more words at his friend, but the urge died quickly. He was done. Too tired to keep going. There was no point. Hydra had done their homework, made it so nothing could take their weapon from their control.

"Things like this take time," Steve said, a brave note in his voice. "You just need-."

Bucky was done listening. "Get out of here."

"Bucky-."

"Get out."

"No-."

"Get out!" He shouted this time, grabbing the nightstand and hurling it back against the wall. There was a loud crashing noise as it broke apart. "I'm done Steve! There is no point! There's nothing we can do!" He spun around, facing Steve whose jaw was tense, hands out as he tried to diffuse the situation.

"Bucky," Steve tried again, blue eyes flashing. "You can't give up. You can't live like this, you know that."

"Seventy," Bucky said softly in reply, hanging his head and breathing hard. 

"What?"

"Seventy," he repeated, his voice weary even to his own ears. "That's how many times we've tried Steve. How many new ideas those brilliant doctors came up with, how many times they've said those words to me and how many times it hasn't worked."

Steve blinked, apparently surprised. "How do you know?"

In answer, Bucky reached under his mattress and grabbed a notebook. There was nothing in it really, nothing, save a tally mark for each time they'd tried to get the brainwashing junk out of his head. He flung it carelessly at Steve, who caught it and began to flip through it. He was silent for a while, but then let out a soft "oh."

Bucky couldn't help the smug, bitter grin that came to his face. "There's only so much trying we can do Steve. And I'm done with it. I don't want to be...but, I just don't see it coming to anything."

"Thinking that way isn't going to help," the Avenger said sternly. "You have to stay positive.

Bucky didn't respond to that. Positive though was useful yes, but there was a point were optimism became just plain foolish. They'd reached that point already as far as he was concerned. "Please," Bucky said, flopping down onto the bed, the frame creaking as he did. "Just go Steve."

There was shuffling sound as Steve fought his internal battle. Bucky knew what it was. Steve had more fight in him, he wanted to keep talking about this, boost his friend's morale and go out and tell the doctors that he was ready to try again. But he wasn't and he didn't care how stubborn Steve was. In this, Bucky knew he would outlast Captain America.

"I'll tell them we'll be taking a break for a while," Steve said finally, apparently deciding to call it a truce. "Maybe a break will do you good."

Bucky didn't respond to that either and there was a click as Steve left the room. Bucky was alone. He rolled over onto his back, staring at the blinding white ceiling. He'd been in cryo for a year before they'd woken him up, ready and eager to fix the damage in his mind. Give him back his life. 

But ever since then, it had been a long, steady sweep of failed experiments, damages and exhaustion for all parties involved. And the initial hope Bucky had felt upon being woken up had faded out to almost nothing.

 _Even the best can only do so much,_ he thought, sighing deeply as he shut his eyes. _They can do everything right and still fail._ This latest result was proof enough of that. The idea this time had been to inject a sort of serum into him, one designed, supposedly to create a negative associate to the words that would allow Bucky to shut them out completely. It hadn't worked and he'd broken the jaw of the doctor who'd administered the serum. He hadn't been informed of that until after he'd come to himself again, but that was how it always was. And he was tired of it. He was tired of failure. Tired of fighting. 

Bucky wasn't Steve. Steve never seemed to stop. Always having more to go on, more to hope for and more to give. Bucky wasn't like that. He could fight the good fight, but eventually, he'd give out. And he was pretty sure he'd reached that point now, with failed attempt number seventy-one.

He opened his eyes, deciding that he might as well attempt to get some sleep. Bucky glanced over at the door, making sure no one was nearby and rolled over onto his side, letting his one arm hang off the bed and reach underneath it. After several moments of searching, his fingers found what they sought. An old Walkman tape-player. 

Bucky put the headphones over his ears and hit play. It took a moment, but soon, a sweet familiar voice was singing _How to Save a Life_ to him. 

 _Melody, Nightingale,_ he thought fondly, shutting his eyes, memories playing back in his mind as he listened to her sing. The song brought back memories of what felt like countless nights of laying next to her, holding her close as she sang him back into sleep. The smell of coffee, soap and stainless steel. The rugged texture of her scarred skin, a permeant reminder of the abuse she'd suffered at the hands of her father, Doctor John Frasier. 

He'd been safe as he'd hidden in the house, the same one she'd been so horrifically abused in, but Bucky had not stayed there. Six months he'd been there, secure, hidden and happier than he could recall being in a long time, but that had changed when S. H. I. E. L.D. agents came to question Melody about him. It had not been long after that incident that Bucky left. The choice had been painful, but he had been sure of it as well.

It was a choice that kept Melody safe from those who were looking for him. One of the gifts she'd given to him before they parted had been the radio and the tape with her singing inside it. A way to help him fall asleep, even when she was not with him.

Bucky had kept it safe with him ever since and each night fell asleep to the music on it. As he drifted off into sleep, he was able to wonder, just for a moment, what she would've made of all this.


	2. Two

"Mel?"

Melody looked up at her coworker, Doctor Derrick Montgomery. She wished he hadn't spoken to her. They had talked of course, since their breakup, but it was always about work. He'd been trying to change that though over the last few weeks. Trying corner her and talk about something personal. Which she really didn't want to do.

Melody finished cleaning her hands, looking out into the now empty OR. Their patient, a fourteen year old boy named Alexander Michaelson had been in severe need of emergency surgery after a car crash. Said surgery had taken six hours. She focused on keeping her hands steady she scrubbed at the skin. The repair on his abdominal wall had been stressful and now it was catching up with her. She hadn't felt the stress as she'd cut, stabilized and sutured him back together, but now it was over. Alexander was being wheeled into recovery now. But that didn't stop the fear she should have felt as she operated come back to her now. He was fine now, but he'd been a disaster when he'd arrived in the ambulance.

She turned off the water and grabbed a towel and began drying her hands before answering. "What do you want?"

Her ex-boyfriend's blue eyes flashed with annoyance, but he did not let the anger show on his face. Rather, he sighed and tapped the scrub sink. "Please, just hear me out. After that, I promise you can ignore me if that's what you want. I'll leave you be. I won't pester you at all. Just listen first, before you decide to do that. Please."

She made a show of looking around the room, to give herself time to think of what she could do. Being honest with herself, all Melody wanted to do was dissolve on the spot. Vanish and be gone from this room and Derrick. She had just gotten her feelings back. The worry she'd felt for that kind boy and the pity she felt for his terrified parents as she'd stabilized his abdominal wall were all hitting her now and she did not need a confrontation with her ex on top of that. Her insides were messy enough as it was. The last thing she wanted to do was talk with her ex about their breakup.

However, she could see no polite way to excuse herself and so, taking a deep breath, Melody resigned herself to the conversation. "Fine.

Derrick smiled at her, and as per usual, it was a charming smile. Full of warmth. That had been what she'd liked most about Derrick, he was always so warm. Like there was a small sun inside him, lighting him up and spreading to anything he touched. The surgeon tapped fingers ever harder on the steel sink for several moments before speaking. It seemed like he hadn't thought he'd get this far.

"I miss you," he said finally, looking up at Melody with sincere blue eyes. "A lot."

Melody hadn't been expecting to hear that. "Really?" she asked. "You miss being 'frustrated' and 'shut out'?" she said back the same words Derrick had said to her the night they'd broken up. The memory still stung.

"No." The Pediatric surgeon said, tugging off his scrub cap to reveal the dark brown curls underneath. Normally, they were well groomed and combed back from his face, but the cap had made it messy. His stubble-covered jawline was tight for a moment, before he spoke again. "I miss laughing with you. I miss eating lunch with you when we were on break and running off to the hospital on date night because we were on call. That's what I miss."

Melody pulled off her own scrub cap. It wasn't colorful like Derrick's. He wore one patterned after Captain America's shield, something his younger patients often enjoyed. Melody had no such cap, all of hers were black.

Derrick reached out, grabbing her hand which until this point had been rested on the sink as well. His hand was larger than hers, but the long fingers, sure as they held hers marked their similarity. They both had the hands of a surgeon. The gesture surprised Melody, but she did not pull away. "I miss you," he said, "do you miss me?"

Melody was spared answering when her pager went off. She picked it up, looking to see who it was. The ER.

"Got to go," she mumbled, pulling her hand away and sprinting out of the scrub room towards the ER. First rule of working in emergency medicine; answer every page at a run. In emergency medicine, time was everything. Three minutes, such a small time span was everything. It was the line between life and death.

"What do we got?" she asked, coming to a halt in the ER, ready to make a go for the trauma gowns and get outside to wait for the ambulance.

"A telephone call," Doctor Tucker Jones, a third year resident at West Memorial answered, looking up from the chart he was doing. "It's waiting at the nurses station."

The adrenaline drained out of Melody's system at once. "Alright." She made her way towards the nurses station, intent on getting in on another surgery at some point today. If only to avoid Derrick. He knew better than to bother her when she was in the OR. She didn't want to answer his question. It was too complicated.

Melody addressed the nurse who was at the station. Her former scrub nurse Becky. She'd transferred after her child had been born. The clinic hours were simply better for family life.

"Well if it isn't Doctor Freezer." She greeted, tossing her long braids over one shoulder where the white beads clicked together. 

"Hey Becky," Melody greeted politely. She and the nurse  had lost touch since the transfer. Though they had a mutual respect for one another, they had little else in common and nothing to bond them as a result. "Jones said I had  call?"

"Yeah," she handed over the phone, clicking a button to take it off hold. "Some relative of yours."

Melody didn't bring the phone to her ear. If it was Moria she wasn't going to answer. They had nothing to say to each other. "Did they give a name? I don't really have that many relatives." 

"Said her name was Sharon," Becky said with a shrug as she spun away from the desk. "Rebecca," she called at a passing nurse, "I'm going on break!" Melody bid goodbye to the nurse and put the phone to her ear, feeling numb. Why would Sharon call the hospital? She had both Melody's cell phone and pager. Despite her disappointment with Sharon, fear still spiked Melody's blood like ice. 

What she'd tried to say, what Sharon had dismissed and how she'd felt afterwards didn't change how much she cared. Sharon Carter, for her faults was still the only real family Melody had ever known. The thought of loosing that frightened her, in fact, it was second only to the truth of her past becoming known. 

"Hello?" her words came out shaking more than she cared to admit.

"Mel, you're about to take a vacation."

 "No I'm not." Melody said, puzzled. The only break she'd ever taken from work had been a suspension two years ago. Though she'd missed work, the fact that James had been there with her had made the time quiet enjoyable.

"Yes you are," the agent plowed on, not caring that Melody had apparently no plans to vacation anywhere. "You're coming to meet me in Wakanda."

"Am I now?"

"Yup," Sharon said, popping the end of the word. "I've got a friend here that needs a doctor."

"Did your boyfriend get shot again?" she asked flatly. 

Sharon laughed without humor. She spoke again, her voice soft, apparently not wanting to be overheard. "This isn't about him, it's about his best friend."

Melody's hand tightened involuntarily on the phone. "Is he alright?" she said, heart racing. She hadn't spoken to James, nor heard any word of him on the news since that phone call almost a year ago. The call that told her she would likely not hear anything again for a very, very long time. 

Sharon sounded tired when she spoke again. "That depends on what you're referring to." The agent sighed deeply. "Physically he's a picture of health, mentally, not so much."

"I see." Melody replied, her free hand moving towards the little red star she wore around her neck. It had been a gift from James for her thirty-first birthday. The first gift she'd ever gotten for the occasion. The arrival of the package had done exactly what she feared any birthday celebration would do, it had made her cry tears of joy.

"They've been trying to fix what happened to his mind, give it back to him." Sharon explained though she did not need to. James had told Melody as much in his phone call, but Sharon didn't know that. She didn't know about the call. She didn't know about the necklace. She didn't know that Melody had fallen in love with the Winter Solider.

"And he wants to give up?" Melody finished, her words partly a question.

"Not really," Sharon said, "or at least I don't think so. He wants to get better, but...it's been hard on him. They've tried a lot and they've failed as many times. Steve's trying to reason with him, so are the doctors who've been on the case but they haven't been that effective in persuasion."

"And what makes you think I'll be different?" As far as Sharon knew, she and James hadn't been lovers. They hadn't even really been friends, merely two people who respected one another but weren't especially close. 

"You're a doctor."

"He won't listen to the doctors he has." Melody remaindered her dryly. "You just told me that."

"Yeah, but he trusts you. Maybe that'll be the key to changing his mind. And even if it doesn't, it won't hurt to try."

Melody didn't care if he would listen or not. She already knew that she would go. She would try and convince James to keep fighting, keep working at a solution to the brainwashing. And she would see him again. That, more than anything was her drive to go. Not that she would admit that to him, or anyone else.

"I'll go. I just need to get things cleared up at work first."

"Good," Sharon said and Melody could hear the smile in her voice. An aching feeling settled into her chest. Would this have been how she would've reacted, had they had the conversation Melody had attempted to initiate two weeks ago? Would Sharon have even called her now, asking for help, if she knew how truly twisted her trusted doctor was?

Melody didn't know. Part of her wanted to. That was the part of her that had tried to speak to Sharon about her mother. Another part didn't. The part that was frightened of loosing Sharon, the part that had been hurt when her friend had said "I'm really busy, can we talk later?"

"I'll take care of your flight," the agent jabbered on, unaware of what was going on in Melody's head. "Just talk to your boss ASAP and as soon as you're clear pack a bag and go to the airport."

Melody nodded and tried to find her voice. "Alright. I'll do that now. My shift's almost over anyways."

"Great, love you Mel. I'll see you soon."

"Bye." Melody didn't say the words back. Sharon didn't love her. Not really. She loved the idea she had of Melody. And even that hadn't been enough for Sharon to chose her. When her attention was divided and she could only chose one outlet, Melody hadn't been her choice.

But even so, Melody was going to answer this latest call for help and for once, it wouldn't be to help Sharon. It would be for someone else, someone who loved her, all of her, darkness and scars included.

"Jones," she called over the resident, hanging up the phone in it's proper place.

"Yes Doctor Frasier?" he hurried to her, moving at the brisk pace she'd taught him to use. Yes, she had bee right. Tucker Jones showed incredible promise as a trauma surgeon. 

"I'm going to the Chief's office, you got things under control here?"

"Yes ma'am."

Melody smiled, tugging at the sleeve of her white coat. Stitched into the left side were the words, _Melody Fraiser MD._ She'd miss wearing this while she was in Wakanda."Good, page me if that changes." Without further word she walked away from Jones and made her way towards the elevator and the third floor where the Chief's office was. She needed to get to him before he put out next week's schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Shoutout to Fallenrose2517 and three guests who's name I don't know for the kudos on chapter one! I hope you're all liking it! Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Three

"Morning Bucky," Steve said cheerfully, entering the room as he did every morning. He knocked every time, but he never waited for an invitation to enter either. 

"Morning," Bucky mumbled, face still buried in a pillow. 

"Hungry?" Steve asked, setting a tray down on a nearby table. Already, Bucky could smell the enticing mix of eggs and bacon.

Bucky didn't answer for a moment. He wasn't starving by any means, but he could eat, but he was also fairly comfortable and wasn't sure he wanted to move either. Finally, after considering the matter a moment longer, he sat upright and swung his legs out of bed.

"Thanks," he mumbled, sitting across from Steve like he always did. This had become a  routine they'd established since he'd come out of cryo. Steve always came into his room, carrying something for breakfast and they sat at the table together while Bucky ate.

"You're welcome," Steve said even as Bucky picked up a fork and dug into the meal. "Sleep well?"

Bucky swallowed a mouthful of fried egg before answering. "Same as usual." His nightmares hadn't gone away. Some nights he got lucky and slept too deeply to dream. Other nights, rarer still, he dreamed but they were pleasant. Those nights didn't outnumber the ones that were filled with the screams of dead people and coldness of Siberia.

Steve frowned for a moment, hands curling tightly together. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about," Bucky answered truthfully. "It was the same as it always is." Steve's blue eyes fixed him a moment. Bucky knew that look, Steve wanted to press the matter further. He always worried that his friend was holding something back.

"I'm serious Steve," Bucky said, mildly annoyed as he bit into a piece of bacon. It crunched between his teeth and tasted sharply of salt. "It was nothing new. Nothing we haven't already talked about."

"We haven't talked about everything though." Steve reminded him and Bucky set down his fork, no longer hungry. 

"I'm not going back into the lab Steve." He said flatly. Steve had tried to push the topic over the last two weeks, but Bucky was not going to budge. He'd had enough of it. The hope that began as they developed a new idea, a new way to free him. Then the fear and anticipation that came as they tried it. Then nothing, a blank space before coming back and realizing it had been a false hope. It had failed and they were still back at square one. Bucky was done. He simply couldn't do it anymore and no amount of pleading was going to change his mind.

"I wasn't going to talk about the lab." Steve said, though Bucky knew because his friend did not meet his eye, that Steve was lying. "I was talking about the Nightingale."

Bucky's annoyance with the lie vanished on the spot. "Oh. That." Steve frequently checked on Bucky at night, afraid of the nightmares getting the best of him. One night, he'd heard Bucky calling out that name and had been curious about it ever since.

Steve slouched in his seat and crossed his arms. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

He asked that a lot and Bucky's answer never changed. Bucky had plans to tell Steve everything about Hydra, eventually. Some parts he already knew, others not yet simply because Bucky wasn't ready  to discuss them openly. But there was one matter Bucky would never discuss with his best friend and that was Melody. He hoped Steve could live with never knowing what "nightingale" meant.

Bucky finished off the strip of bacon before answering. "No, I'm not." _And I never will be. A secret shared between many is no secret at all._ Outside of himself, Sharon knew about Melody's involvement with S. H. I. E. L. D. as did Sam, Agent Colson and Nick Fury. That was five people in total and that was risky enough. He wasn't going to add a sixth person into the mix.  Melody wanted to remain under the radar and Bucky wasn't going to be the one to screw that up.

Steve tried to hide the flicker of disappointment on his face. "Alright." Steve shifted in his seat, chair legs scrapping across the floor. "Clint managed to get a video call to his family yesterday."

Bucky smiled hearing that. Taking a sip of strong black coffee he asked, "How'd he manage that?"

"Well the computers here are pretty advanced and with his whole background in espionage, he was able to set up the link so that it can't be traced. Don't ask me how he did it." Steve smiled, self-depreciating. "He tried to explain it to me and he might have been speaking German for all I understood."

"I get the feeling." He'd felt that every time Melody had tried to explain a surgery or test she'd performed at work. Most of it had gone over his head. "This while twenty-first century thing is a weird place."

"You're telling me." Steve said, a strange sort of gleam in his eyes. "When I woke up, I had no idea where I was or who was with me, so I tried to get out. I thought I might've gotten captured or something."

"Did you make it out?"

"What do you think?" Steve asked, grinning. "But I didn't get that far before I realized that this world was not like the one I was used to. It was almost like being on a different planet. All the flashing lights and signs, the cars swirling by and the way people were dressed. I was struck dumb by it all."

The laughter had died out of Steve's voice by then. Bucky didn't have to ask why, he already knew. "The future is a weird place." He said finally, setting his fork down on the clean plate. 

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "It is. But at least we're not alone."

"Yeah," Bucky found himself agreeing. "We're not." It was a blessing he didn't really think he deserved, but he wasn't going to turn away from it anymore. That time had passed. Now was the time to follow the kid from Brooklyn- in most respects anyways. He still wasn't going to follow the whole "keep trying" agenda.


	4. Four

Melody had always hated flying for a few reasons. One was that surviving a plane crash was incredibly unlikely. The other was that there was such limited space around and that meant she was mostly confined her seat the entire time. That left her too much time to think.

Against her will, the words Derrick had said to her before she'd been paged to the ER were still floating around her head.

 _"I miss you a lot...I miss_   _laughing with you. I miss eating lunch with you when we were on break and running off to the hospital on date night because we we're both on call. That's what I miss...Do you miss me?"_

Melody didn't want to think about Derrick. How sincere his gaze had been nor how truly remorseful his words had been when she'd left the hospital that same day, telling her how sorry he was.

She believed him. She believed he was truly sorry. That he regretted the things he'd said that night and being honest with herself, Melody had forgiven him for it too. But she couldn't forget that night either.

More memories pressed into her over the thrum of the plane. Memories she would've preferred not to recall. 

 _"I'm done," Derrick said flatly as Melody approached, trembling as she fought the urge to flee from the room. As it was Valentine's Day, they'd gone out in customary fashion to a nice restaurant and Melody had invited him up to her apartment for a few other activates not suited for public settings_ _._ _Tonight though, it had been different. Melody knew the way she hid her body from him had hurt Derrick, and tonight she had wanted to work on changing that. She lacked the courage to be completely naked, but rather than her usual long-sleeved shirts, she was wearing a t-shirt and were she to turn her arm away from her body, part of her scar would be visible._

_She'd nervously run over how this situation would go a hundred times, from the moment they'd walked into her apartment. She'd imagined reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck, Derrick's expression puzzled at first then shocked as he saw what was on her arm._

_She'd imagined him asking what had happened to her._ _She'd imagined her own response, saying it was something she wasn't ready to talk about, as it was a much larger  story. She'd imagined his understanding, warm smile as he held her against him and pulled her into bed. Patient and waiting, but now knowing that she really was trying._

_But that wasn't happening at all. Derrick swung his legs out of bed and tugged on his jeans. "I'm done," he said again and he grabbed his shirt from the floor as well, moving hurriedly passed Melody and out towards the kitchen._

_"Derrick," Melody said, coming to her senses and hurrying after him. Her arms still tightly crossed together, all thoughts of  giving him a piece of her painful past gone. "Where are you going?"_

_"I'm going home." He replied, throwing on his long coat and red scarf. The scarf, she knew had been a gift from his late wife Audrey. "I'm done here."_

_"Derrick, please don't go."_

_"You don't want me," he said, his voice trembling with barely contained anger. Melody hadn't seen him angry often but she had seen enough to recognize it._

_"Yes I do."_ _Melody insisted, grabbing his hand , he didn't pull away, but he didn't hold her back._

_"No you don't, you're telling me that, but it's a lie."_

_Melody felt a fist close around her heart. "No it isn't!" She did want him, he was such a wonderful person, he was so kind, so good. So gentle. in a world that wasn't. "Derrick," Melody drew closer, cupping his face and Melody saw the pain in his blue eyes as he looked at her. "I want you."_

_Melody leaned in, kissing him. He was slow to respond, but he did. The lingering taste of chocolate rested on his lips. Derrick's long arms drew around Melody, pulling her into him and she let her fingers tangle into his soft hair. But the pleasure she felt at their kiss evaporated as she felt his hands creep down towards the hem of her shirt._

_A lifetime of  fear flashed through her, destroying the passion she'd begun to feel and she shoved her hands against his chest, moving him away. "Don't do that!" she exclaimed, heart ramming against her ribs as she thought of what might have happened. What he might have discovered if she hadn't realized..._

_"That's what I mean!" Derrick said, no longer sad, but angry. He wrenched himself away from Melody chest heaving. "I'm done with it!"_

_"Derrick," she tried, wincing at his harsh voice. Derrick rarely got angry but that made the moments he did so much worse._

_"Don't do that! Don't you dare make me the bad guy Melody! I get you have insecurities, I get that you've been through a lot. I've tried to be patient, I've tried to be understanding but I'm done! I'm done with being shut out and I'm done being kept at arm's length! Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to want someone the way I want you?" He demanded, his hard glare locking Melody in place. "I am so frustrated Melody.  And I'm done with it. I'm done wanting to love you and having you shove me away every time I try."_   _He slumped forward, the fight going out of him, but it wasn't yet gone from Melody._  

_"I know you're frustrated," she said, trying to sound soothing. "And I'm trying Derrick, I really-."_

_The blazing anger returned to Derrick's face. "You're trying?" He repeated, rolling his eyes skyward. "That's your defense?"_

_"I am trying!" Melody repeatedly, feeling anger creep into her as well. ""If you would just-."_

_"You won't even let me touch you!" Derrick barked, killing the explanation Melody had been about to give. And with no further word, Derrick stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him._

_Melody blinked like an owl and slid to the floor, shaking as silent tears rolled down her face._

Melody pinched herself, drawing her mind away from that day. Some Valentine's Day that had been. She blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears that had built up in her eyes. Derrick had been right about his trying to be patient, trying to be understanding and she had been right as well. She had really been trying.

But even patient men had their limits and that was the night Derrick had reached his. His words from when she'd been paged came back to her then. _"I miss you."_

Melody hadn't answered him when he'd asked if she missed him. Truth be told, she wasn't sure. She'd cared for Derrick very much and she still did. His kindness, compassion and intelligence made that so easy. His past, with the untimely death of his wife to cancer three years prior had made him a mark of sympathy but he never used it to one up anyone. His nature was too honest.

Perhaps that was why Melody wasn't sure how she felt about getting back together. Derrick was honest. She was not. She lied about everything. She lied about who John and Moira really were, she lied about who she was and that was just the tip of the iceberg. 

Melody leaned back as far as her seat would allow and shut her eyes, hoping to sleep on the plane. Her seventeen hour shift had left her quiet tired and she had a feeling she'd need her sleep by the time she got to Wakanda. Sharon hadn't said much on the phone, but she didn't need to. Nothing was ever simple where James Barnes was concerned.

Her hand fell onto her red star necklace, invisible underneath her blouse, but she could feel it all the same. The small reminder of him, that she had someone out there to who knew everything-and hadn't run away. Melody had thought she'd never see him again. 

 _But,_ she mused as she fell into sleep. _Even I've been wrong before._


	5. Five

Before Belgium, Bucky had not seen Sharon Carter in a year. Then Zemo had shown up and he'd nearly killed her. Not exactly the reunion he'd been hoping for. 

When he mention that to her, the agent had merely given him a wry smile and said, "Eh, part of the job. I've dealt with worse," she peeked over her shoulder, to make sure no one passing by. "Remember that beat down Melody gave me?"

Bucky smiled in spite of how tired he was. His nightmares had been particularly horrible over the last few days. "How can I forget?" he teased, which was a rather morbid joke to make. As long as that hardware was still in his mind he could forget Melody flying into rage at Sharon supposedly showing Bucky pictures of Hydra agents, hoping he could identify them for her. It was a lie they'd fed her when Sharon realized she'd never brought groceries to the house.

She had wanted to talk to Bucky alone however and do so without Melody overhearing, as the topic had been about her. Sharon had been living with the fear that her friend was sucidial, as her father had supposedly been. Bucky had believed that too, after Sharon had explained her concerns. 

It had been later he'd discovered that he was wrong. He wondered if Sharon knew that as well, but he dared not ask outright. He'd expressed a hope of his to Melody the day they'd said goodbye, a hope that she would let Sharon in and tell her the truth about John and everything he'd done to her. Bucky hoped she'd done it, but had no way of knowing and he didn't dare betray her trust by revealing her secret, even by accident. 

"Sorry to disappoint Bucky," Sharon said, smiling good naturedly as she took a seat in the recliner. T'challa had fashioned a room in this place for Bucky that wasn't unlike a studio apartment and it was where he spent most of his time these days. Mainly to avoid Steve who was still trying to pester him on the whole quitting thing."But that was more terrifying than you'll ever be."

Bucky laughed and Sharon did as well. "Has she been alright?"

Sharon tapped her fingers along the armrest before answering. "She's been keeping busy."

"That's not an answer."

Sharon slumped forward, throwing her head into her hands."She found out about the cutting theory."

"How?" Bucky asked, feigning ignorance. He'd been the one to tell her about it, but Sharon didn't need to know that. Her admission about the cutting theory was proof enough of what Bucky had feared: Melody hadn't breathed a word of her secrets to Sharon.

"She's smart, probably recognized that I was always hovering. She said I was wrong. Said she was just working through insecurities."

Bucky wasn't able to stop the laugh that burst out of him and Sharon turned her head to glare at him. "Sorry," he said quickly. "It's just...putting things mildly I guess." Melody's entire back was matted with scars and others still were ripped across her arm and torso. Living with those would've made anyone struggle.  Bucky didn't mind them, they were just part of her. A sign that she'd lived through something horrible and made it out alive. A marker of just how strong she really was. 

"Do you believe her?" 

Sharon moaned into her hands, apparently fearful in ways that couldn't be fully expressed with words."Yes and no. I _do_ believe she's dealing with insecurity. She always tells people they're wrong when they tell her that she's pretty. No one can convince her otherwise. I've been trying since the day we met."

Bucky knew that already. She'd told him "you're wrong" almost every time he called her beautiful. She'd said that right up until he'd coaxed her into promising she'd never say that to him again. In fact, he could only think of one instance where she hadn't objected to that notion, verbally or nonverbally. The last time they'd been together...

"I feel like a terrible friend." Sharon continued, sounding near tears which snapped Bucky away from the warm, intimate memories of that last day. Apparently fear wasn't all the agent was feeling. "I should trust her. But I'm scared if I relax, I'll miss something and then I'll be burying her next to her father."

Bucky didn't know how to respond to that one. "Do what you feel you have to," he said finally. As much as he wanted to alleviate Sharon's fears, he couldn't do it. Melody had trusted him, trusted him with something she'd trusted no one else with her in lifetime. He'd die before betraying that. 

"So did you come here just for therapy?" Bucky asked dryly. "Or did you come here because Steve had you next on his list of people to reason with me?"

Sharon's face was still buried in her arms. "No, not for that. Though he did ask."

Bucky leaned back against the couch, rolling his eyes. "Of course he did. Little punk doesn't know how to give up."

"Sounds like someone else we know." Sharon said, her voice still a bit brittle and Bucky adverted his eyes, pretending to be very interested in an imaginary pattern on the couch cushion beside him.

"Yeah," he agreed, letting his eyes flicker back towards Sharon. "It does. So, are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"To warn you."

Bucky didn't like the sound of that and sat up straight, as though his spine had been replaced with a steel rod. "What happened?"

"Well," Sharon said, going a bit pink in the face. "You know Steve and I we're..."

"Together?" Bucky finished, recalling the kiss he'd witnessed from the backseat of the small blue getaway car. "Yeah I know that. I'm sorry it took him so long to do something, he's  a bit inept when it comes to women."

Sharon went from pink to beet read and Bucky laughed at the change. Sharon, as he knew her, was always rather sure and albeit serious as well. It was nice to see her loosen up. "Well anyways, with being...a couple," she said the word carefully, but Bucky noticed the tugging motion at the corner of her mouth that indicated she wanted nothing more to than to smile at finally being able to say that. "Well, secrets aren't good things to have."

"Secrets?" Bucky repeated, feeling caution cool his veins like ice. "What secrets exactly?"

"That I met you before Belgium for one thing." Sharon said softly and Bucky's fingers curled tightly around the arm rest of the couch. 

"What else are you going to tell him?" he asked. He wasn't happy Steve was going to find out he'd run from him, but he also didn't begrudge Sharon for telling him. It was a secret that had to come out someday, for all their sakes. Bucky knew that. But there were other parts of the story, or rather just one part of it that he was far more concerned about.

Sharon seemed to read his mind. "He won't know more than he has to about the details of it on my side. And he'll know whatever you decide to tell him when he comes and talks to you."

Bucky's death grip on the couch relaxed a little. That was something he could deal with. He wasn't sure what he would say to Steve, but Melody's identity would be protected, she'd stay off the radar which was just what she wanted. "Thanks for the warning Sharon." 

The agent rose to her feet and fiddled nervously with the collar on her leather jacket. "Of course, I'd never just let you walk into that blindly. It's not right. And even if I didn't want to...Well I sort of owe you."

"I almost killed you a year and a half ago," Bucky pointed out. "You don't owe me anything." She didn't owe him anything. Tony Stark didn't either. He'd murdered the man's parents. 

"Yeah," Sharon said, popping her collar as she made her way towards the door. "But you took care of Mel when I couldn't be there myself. I won't forget that."

"Hang on," Bucky stood up as well and made his way towards the fridge. He reached inside and grabbed a small bottle of liquor, not unlike those fond in a hotel. They'd been a gag gift from Scott, who for some reason had taken a bit of a liking to him "Here."

He tossed it to Sharon who caught it, but a look of bewilderment still was written on her face. "In case you need a little push," he said, winking. "You're right, secrets aren't good for relationships."

Sharon rolled the bottle between her fingers. "Might not have one after this."

"That won't happen." Bucky said with complete certainty. "If you can forgive me, he'll forgive you."

"Not the same thing."

"I wasn't talking about that," Bucky said. They both knew what "that" meant. "I mean he knows I ran from him and hid. He doesn't know how I did it-yet, but he knew that much. And he forgave me for it. He'll forgive you for helping me. He'll be mad at first," he shrugged, "but who wouldn't be? But once he gets over that, he'll realize that you helped me and that'll mean something to him."

Sharon's mouth flickered into the barest hint of a smile. "You sound so sure."

"He's my best friend." The statement was simple, but what that entailed was anything but. 

Sharon looked at the bottle of vodka. "I wish I was that sure about how mine reacts to bad news." Her voice got soft again and Bucky didn't need to read minds like Wanda to know what images were rolling around in Sharon's head. Images of Melody, dead on the ground by her own hands.

Bucky had seen those images too, back when he'd believed Melody had been suicidal. They'd left him needing support to stay on his feet. He still didn't like thinking about them.

"She'll be okay Sharon," Bucky said. If he'd had both arms, he would've crossed them so the gesture again was useless he tried it, forgetting he only had one limb. "She's always okay."

Sharon pocketed the tiny bottle. "She's tough," she agreed, twisting the door handle. "They don't call her Doctor Freezer for nothing."

Bucky laughed at the nickname. He'd called her that once too, without even knowing others did. "No," he agreed. "They don't." And as Sharon left, the door clicking shut behind her, Bucky flopped back onto the couch. 

Sharon had no idea how on the mark she was about Melody. Melody _was_ tough. But even that felt like an understatement. Melody was a _survivor_. She'd been a piece in the dangerous, sadistic games of a man who was supposed to be her father and she'd made it out alive. Tough wasn't even close to summing up just how strong she was.

Laying against the cushions, Bucky's rough night of sleep began to catch up to him and his body grew heavy and sluggish. His eyelids pulled shut, though he forced them back open several times. But when the eighth time came, he had no more fight left in him. Sleep settled over him and he knew no more.

***

_Bucky was back in the Frasier house. But it was different than before. It was cleaner. The fill of dust that had coated the place as he'd known it was gone, replaced. Every surface, from the teakwood coffee table to the marble counters gleamed in the dim moonlight that streamed in from the windows._

_"Hello?" He called_ , _turning about, unsure why he was there again. He'd left it a long time ago. "Melody?"_

_There was no reply, save a sharp snore and he turned about, beaming expecting to see the doctor curled up fast asleep on the couch. The joy he'd felt however, was punctured like a balloon as his eyes fell on the emerald green couch._

_Melody wasn't on it at all. It was someone else, someone he had never met but still recognized. He'd seen her face in a photograph._ _Moira Fraiser was passed out on the couch, blonde hair askew and a dark purple bruise around her throat. Even as far away as Bucky was, he could smell the stench of wine emanating off her skin._

_Bucky wrinkled his nose, disgust mixing with pity in his stomach. Moira had been hurt too, he could see that by the large, hand-shaped mark on her neck. But she'd been weak. She'd let her daughter suffer at the hands of a monster._

_"Melody?" Bucky called again, fear spiking his blood like poison._ _If this was how Moira was, he didn't want to think about the shape Melody was in._ _He paused in the quiet house, debating where to start looking for her. He didn't hear the rush of water from the bathroom study, so whatever wounds her father had given her either weren't the sort that required cleaning or it had already been taken care of._  

I'll try upstairs, _he decided._ She might be asleep already. I can take her from here. John's probably asleep as well, he won't be able to stop me. _He could do what Moira had been to weak to do, he would take her away from this prison, save her from the monster who kept her locked inside._

 _His choice made, Bucky began climbing the stairs. Fast enough to be on the second floor in a timely manner and slow enough to avoid making too much noise._ _But even as his feet touched the wooden floors, the silence of the night was shattered a sound like a firecracker._

_A horrible silence followed that seemed to stretch forever, but it wasn't forever. It was a second and then he heard a loud, shrill scream echo through the house..._

***

Bucky's eyes snapped open, his breathing hard as he sat upright. _It wasn't real_ , he told himself, _it was just a dream._ But that was wrong. What he'd seen _had_ been real. It had actually happened. It had been a real event, though it was long past.

He slumped back against the couch, already calming down. Horrible as it had been to dream about, it could've been worse. Most of his dreams with Melody involved her dying by his hands. He was happy to forgo those in favor of Melody murdering her father-that was one death that actually made the world a better place than it had been before.

Still, he would've preferred more pleasant dreams about Melody. Or at least to have them more frequently. They happened, sometimes. One instance they were just in the living room, Melody rambling on about some procedure as she practiced her sutures in a banana. He didn't remember what they'd said at all, only the feeling of contentment that the dream had left him with upon waking.

And one other night still, this dream even vaguer they'd been together again. He hadn't recalled much about it upon waking up, but Bucky had remembered enough. " _I can finally breathe_." The taste of her kiss, the feeling of her body against his, the smell of stainless steel, soap and coffee.

Those were the things Bucky wished he could dream about. They were probably the closest thing he'd get to Melody Frasier again.


	6. Six

Melody's hopes of sleeping on the flight had been dashed quickly. Part of that had been due to turbulence they'd hit not long after take off, the other half of the blame rested on the screaming infant and the kid who kept kicking the back of her seat.

So upon landing, Melody was exhausted but still more than happy to leave the plane. Her body was sluggish and heavy from her last shift at the hospital, a seventeen hour mess because of course, when she had somewhere to be that was time sensitive, something had to go to complete hell.

Muttering darkly about stupid drivers and pedestrians who were too locked on their phone to look both ways before crossing Melody wound her way through the chaos of the airport. Before long, she spotted Sharon waiting in the crowd, holding a small piece of paper that said _Mel Frasier._

Melody wanted to smile at the enthusiastic grin and waving Sharon was doing as she approached but two things stopped her. The first of which was the exhaustion that wracked her body. The other was that hollow feeling that had taken root in her two weeks prior. The day she'd finally built up enough courage to start telling Sharon the truth, and how Sharon hadn't been able to make the time.

 _Would she be smiling now?_ Melody wondered in spite of herself. _Would she be so happy to see me if she knew?_  

The questions ran around in Melody's mind, despite her desire to shut them down, but she did not have the ability. Tiredness always made the mind less sharp and even a mind as brilliant as her own was not able to escape that fate.

"Mel!" Sharon crowed happily, throwing her arms around the surgeon. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Melody patted Sharon on the back and swallowed a yawn. "Good to see you too."

Sharon drew away, still grinning but her smile flickered quickly. "Look at your eyes! When was the last time you slept?" 

"I don't know. My shift ran later than usual so I was dashing off to the airport and of course kangaroo kid was stilling right behind me." Melody yawned, the sound high pitched and clear, even in the noise of the airport. 

"When was the last time you eat or showered?" 

"I ate on the plane and showered yesterday." She had not really been given a choice with the showering. A bachelorette party had been brought to the ER thanks to a member of the party managed to twist her ankle horribly. Said patient had also puked on Melody thanks to all the vodka she'd ingested. 

Sharon smiled and Melody knew why. Her answers for two of the self-care topics were acceptable. That was better than average. "Come on," Sharon threw her arm around Melody's shoulders. "You can sleep in the car, we've got a bit of a ride before we get where we need to go."

Melody didn't allow herself to be led out of the airport however, as she had no intention of sleeping. She'd told the Chief she was taking three weeks off for a vacation and so, she wanted to adjust to the Wakanda time quickly. She couldn't do that by going to bed at two in the afternoon and sleeping for eight to twelve hours. 

So, much to Sharon's dismay, Melody bought a large coffee before leaving the  airport.

"That stuff stunts your growth Mel," she complained while Melody took a careful sip. It wasn't too scalding which was surprising, that tended to be the case with coffee shops.

"Don't believe what the internet tells you. So," they stepped through the automatic doors to a line of waiting cars. "Which ride is ours? Do we walk to the parking lot from here?"

"Nope," she pointed towards a sleek, long black car. "Just over here. Here, I got this," she took Melody's suitcase from her and hurried off to the car, expertly weaving through the chaos of other people as Melody followed, rather less adept behind her.

Sharon's job took her all over the world, the farthest Melody's had ever taken her was  a one time trip to DC where she'd have Captain America on her operating table. She hadn't really traveled since then. It didn't really bother her too badly either, New York was all the adventure she needed.

A chauffeur nodded kindly to Melody, holding open the door of the shiny cab. She muttered a thanks and slid inside. The inside of the car was as sleek as the outside. The seat underneath her was made of smooth and sleek leather. A window hid the backseat from the driver in front to provide privacy but sadly the other feature of the cab quickly blurred to the background of Melody's mind-as she realized she was not alone there and it wasn't Sharon who was by her side.

It was Steve Rogers.

He wore a simple pair of blue khaki shorts and a grey t-shirt. A navy blue baseball cap was pulled low over his face, along with a pair of sunglass.

"Captain," Melody greeted. 

 "Mel, am I right?"

It didn't escape her that he'd used her preffered nickname rather than her full name. "Yes. Nice to see you again."

The slight smile that Steve had been wearing faded. "We've never met."

"Not officially I suppose," Melody took a sip of coffee. "The last time I saw you, you were under anesthesia and we were in DC."

"DC?" the man said, comprehension edging into his voice. "You were in DC during-?"

"No," Melody corrected quickly. "Well not for the reasons  you think anyways. Sharon knew what you were doing, before it happened. She got me out there before then. She had a feeling you'd need a doctor afterwards, she was right."

Sharon slid into the car, shoving Melody between her and the Avenger. She didn't like the new arrangement. She didn't mind being close to people she knew well, so being squished against Sharon wasn't a problem. Steve was another matter. Melody had never had a conversation with him until this point. She couldn't read him and for that reason, she would have preferred to have a bit more distance between them. 

"You were the surgeon on my case? I didn't see your name on the chart." There was an edge of suspicion to his voice which Melody was quick to ease.

"I asked to be left off it. I like a quiet life and that's hard to have if people suddenly know that the government agents have me on their speed dial to sew up Avengers."

The tension in Steve's shoulders lessened somewhat, but it didn't go away entirely. "I guess that makes sense." 

For some reason, Sharon shrunk up beside her and glanced sidelong at Steve who was now firmly staring at the back of the drivers car as they began to move down the freeway. After several long, tense minutes passed, Melody had finished her coffee and was feeling a bit more awake than she had been before.

"So you know Bucky," Steve said finally, his words slow and soft. He didn't sound so angry anymore, just tired. 

"I do," she answered, though it wasn't a question. A small shiver ran up her spine hearing that name-almost like an echo of being touched.

"Can you help him?"

Melody leaned back against the leather seat. Looking out at the lush green landscape of Wakanda she answered him. "I don't know." She hadn't seen James in two years. She hadn't spoken to him in half that. She didn't know fully, what had happened to him since they'd said goodbye.

So much had changed since they'd been together last. Including her. He'd changed her. His loving her, her being able to fully breath when they were together had changed. And his leaving, choosing her safety over his had changed her too. She'd tried to do as he'd asked, she'd tried to "live better" and that experience she'd had shaped her now as well.

She wasn't the Melody he'd said goodbye to. And she doubted he was the same James who'd left her. So there was only one answer to give Steve Rogers. And he didn't take it that well.

"You don't know?" he said, words almost disbelieving. 

"That's what I just said isn't it?"

"So let me see if I get this," he said, "you traveled _halfway across the world_ to see one person, to _help_ them and you have _no idea_ what you're going to do to accomplish that?" 

"That's correct. I'm lacking on information at this point. I need to know more information about this case before I can work out a treatment plan." She kept her voice cool and clear, just like when she spoke with stressed patients families. She hoped it would be enough to keep Steve calm. She didn't want shut down. She didn't want to stop feeling. That was her second tactic when simply being  calm despite her own feelings wasn't enough. 

"It's a really-."

"I didn't say I needed the information from you Captain." Melody felt Sharon stiffen at her interruption.. "Sharon has been kind enough to give me the details herself, but she and you are both lacking on one other vital perspective."

"Glad Sharon tells you important information at least," he muttered, and Melody thought she heard some weight behind the words. Sharon squirmed uncomfortably beside her. None of them said anything more as the drive continued and Melody was grateful for it. 

She wanted a chance to put herself in order before she saw James again. A chance to figure out what she wanted to say. But she didn't think there were words for it.


	7. Seven

A knock on the door cut through the sound of Melody's voice in his ears. Bucky sat upright, hit pause and hid the Walkman out of site under a pillow. He didn't want to explain why he had that. Too many questions.

"Who is it?" he called.

"It's me."

Bucky laid back against the bed. "If you're here to talk about the lab Steve, just go away."

"I'm not here for that."

Bucky snorted. He said that now, but he was sure Steve would steer the conversation towards that at some point. That's what he'd been doing for three weeks since Bucky had informed him that he was throwing in the towel. Still, he'd give his friend the benefit of the doubt. "Come in."

Steve entered the room, wearing a jacket that was way too heavy for the climate they were in. "Going somewhere?" Bucky asked.

"I went out," Steve replied. He crossed his arms a moment and looked at his face. "Bucky, come with me a second."

"I'm trying to sleep," he admitted. "Can it wait?" His nightmares had been horrible over the last few days and he was starting to feel it now. The last thing Bucky wanted to do was snap at someone just because he was sleep deprived. 

"No."

"Steve," he warned even as he got up. "I'm not going back to the lab."

"That's not where we're going." His friend promised and Bucky tried not to roll his eyes. Steve could get sneaky when he got desperate. He'd demonstrated that plenty of times as he'd tried to get into the army back when they'd been younger.

"So," Bucky asked, locking the door behind him as they left the studio. "What's going on?"

"Too long of a story to explain," he said. 

Bucky really did roll his eyes hearing that. "Steve, no need to be secretive. I already what Sharon told you."

Steve sidelong at him. "You do?"

"She told me what she was going to do," Bucky said with a shrug. "I figured it was only matter of time before you talked to me about it." Steve's jaw tightened hearing that. Sighing, Bucky continued. "You've got every right to be pissed-at both of us."

Steve didn't say anything and it didn't reassure Bucky at all. It was just like when Tony Stark had seen the video of his parents murder. He hadn't screamed or raged at Steve or Bucky. He'd just been quiet. And that was ten times worse. The same thing was happening now, so Bucky decided he might as well take the chance to speak before Steve tried to deck him.

"Look, I didn't want to hurt you. I just...After everything that happened...I wasn't ready to see you yet. I know that's a pretty pathetic excuse, but's all I've got." It was true as anything he'd told Steve. He hadn't been ready to face him then. Not ready to reconcile who he'd been to what he'd been turned into and who he was afterwards. "But the reason I wanted to be in New York, it wasn't because I knew it had been my home once. It was because it was close to you."

"You just said the reason you, _hid_ ," Steve made that word sound more like a swear word. "Was because you couldn't face me."

"I couldn't." Bucky said as they walked, he wasn't really paying much attention to the direction. As far as he saw, they weren't going anywhere near the lab which was enough for him. "But I wanted to be close, just in case you...needed backup."

Steve stopped walking and Bucky followed suit. "What?"

"I know you. You never could walk away from a fight and pal, seventy years hasn't really changed that. And I knew, sometimes you got into fights with people who were a lot bigger than you were. I thought...just in case, it might be good to be close by."

Steve still said nothing and Bucky had run out of words to say. He figured Steven's silence was a marker of further anger and he didn't blame him for it in the slightest. Had the situation been reversed, Bucky was sure he would've reacted the same way-or reacted slightly worse. 

Bucky opened his mouth, to say something, maybe an apology for lying, for running the way he had two years ago but he was denied the chance when he heard a sharp, but familiar voice call out from the nearby living room. "You're in my light."

Hearing that voice stopped his heart. He knew it so well. He knew that tone so well, she'd used it on him before, back when he'd been a stubborn ass to her. She was sounded so close by, and yet, she couldn't be. It was impossible. Melody was in New York. She was probably in the West Memorial Emergency Room right then, assessing patients or maybe she was in the OR. She couldn't be here...

Almost as though on phantom limbs, Bucky moved towards the living room, Steve close behind him. Settled on the sleek black leather couches was Sharon Carter. Behind her stood Clint, his face gaze  locked onto the people sitting parallel  to them as he watched them. 

Melody Frasier, impossible as it was, was kneeling by the couch next to Scott Lang who had a nasty gash in his palm. Her head was bent as she examined the cut, her hands already covered with latex gloves. There was a flash of silver and then a tinkling sound as she set a shard of glass onto a towel on the coffee table. 

"So," she told Scott, her voice crisp and cool. A sure sign that she was no longer Melody in that moment. She was just Doctor Frasier. "How did this happen again?"

"Clint spooked me," he said, flashing a look to the assassin. "Because he likes to jump out of nowhere and scare people."

"Not my fault you're unobservant," Clint replied, his eyes focused intently on Melody, frowning slightly as though he wasn't sure what to make of this stranger who was patching up his teammate. 

Scott ignored the jibe. "And so like anyone else I jumped back and a lamp was too close by. I knocked it over and caught my fall on the shards."

"I can see that," Melody replied, pulling out yet another shard. She set down the tweezers, which made a slight tinning noise on the glass end table. The sound startled Bucky out of his frozen state and he found his voice. 

"Melody?" he said and he saw her hand pause over the wound at the sound of her name. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," Scott said, completely unaware of Bucky's shock. "You're name is Melody? And you two know each other, how does that-? Ow!" He tried to draw his wounded hand away but Melody, having too much practice with that held tight as she dabbed antiseptic over the wound with a cotton ball. "That hurts!" Scott complained, his question apparently forgotten in that moment. 

"So do infections," Melody replied, uncaring as she studied the wound a moment longer. "Good news Mr. Lang, you don't need stitches. Just hold still a for a minute okay?" 

"Sure thing-ow!"

Melody pressed a dressing over the wound and Bucky tried to speak again. "What are you doing here Melody?" She didn't look up, nor give any indication that she'd heard him.

Scott however did speak up. "He's asking you a question."

Melody tied off the bandage and cut away the excess with a small scissors.  She then set it down into a small red case and pulled off the blood-stained gloves on her hands. She then turned her attention towards Clint who was now watching them with apparent interest.

"Agent Barton," she said politely, but her clipped speech and lack of a smile told Bucky that she was still shut down. Her emotions were still turned off. "Would you please dispose of this?" she gestured towards the small pile of bloody shards, the stained towel and her gloves. "I would do it myself, but I don't know my way around this place."

Clint eyed Melody skeptically. "Sure," he carefully collected up the debris and only after it was cleared away did Melody look at Bucky for the first time. 

"I was asked here to consult on your case," she answered, her green eyes vivid in coloring as ever, but cold and unfeeling as they looked at him. "Though I had heard you were adverse to medical advice as of late so whether or not that actually happens is completely up to you."

She tugged at the sleeve of her long-sleeved white blouse. The long sleeves looked out of place against her jean shorts and the humid tropical weather that Wakanda had.

"I'll listen to what you have to say," he muttered, unsure of why she was still shut down. Or why she'd turned off her emotions to begin with. The injury Scott had gotten was clearly minor and in no way required her to stay so logical that she had to stop feeling emotions...

But quickly as he'd thought that, he saw Melody change. The icy, unfeeling concentration she'd been using ten seconds before was melting away. The twinkle in her green eyes returned and a small smile came onto her face. "Good. It would've been very irritating to have flown all the way from New York for nothing."

Bucky held back a smile, feeling that same warmth slide around his heart at seeing her smile. Once, he'd tried to deny it, refused to even name it. But things were different now then they had been, back when everything had first started.

"I'll need to ask you a few questions, so if you'll follow me please?" She moved even as she spoke and Bucky got ready to follow her, but noticed Steve planned to do the same as well. That wasn't going to happen, not if Bucky had anything to say about it.

"It's alright," he muttered to his friend. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Steve eyed the retreating doctor with wariness in his eyes. Apparently the complete shift in Melody's demeanor hadn't gone unnoticed by him. 

"Yes I'm sure," Bucky said, trying to reassure him. "I'll see you in a bit. And don't worry, I won't be rude to her, she's Sharon's friend."

Steve muttered something hearing that, but Bucky wasn't paying attention. He had more pressing things on his mind at the moment. Like what Melody Frasier was actually doing in Wakanda. She might have been asked to consult on his case, but Bucky thought, or rather, he hoped it wasn't the reason she'd come.


	8. Eight

Bucky followed Melody, keeping a reasonable distance between them as they walked. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, his head spinning with confusion and bursting with questions.

Yet he could not find his voice.

This all felt so real. The sound of their footsteps tapping against the titled floor, the stream of bright sunshine falling across the hallway and making the white surroundings blinding. The way the light caught her hair and turned the strands bright gold.

The way she was fidgeting, tucking her shoulder length hair behind her ear. It has grown longer than Bucky remembered. Surely, the change was a sign that this wasn't a dream. In his dreams, Melody always looked exactly as he remembered her, without any changes.

Such a thing, he knew was impossible in two years time. Change occurred every day big and small and two years meant so many of those could build up and create a new person.

He glanced sidelong at Melody, wondering what two years had done to her besides giving her longer hair. He was afraid of the answer, yet he needed to know it. But he would not ask now. If they were going to talk openly, they had to be alone, Bucky knew that without a doubt in his mind.

Finally, after walking for what felt like ages, they came to a door and Melody reached into the pocket of her khaki shorts. Though her shirt was too long for the weather, the rest of her wardrobe was not and gave a very nice view of her long, tan legs.

So many times they'd been wrapped around Bucky, already, seeing them he remembered how soft her skin was...

 _Don't go there,_ he warned himself mentally. Now was not the time to go getting thoughts like that. Those days had been some of the best of his life since waking up. The moments that had made Bucky feel human again, but those moments were in the past and for all he knew, that was where they would remain for Melody.

Melody pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. With a click the lock came undone and she opened the door. "In here."

Bucky followed without question. It didn't take him long to figure out where they were. Another studio apartment, not unlike his own. However, despite the exact same white walls, large windows that provided a sweeping view of the jungle around them and even the same furniture the room was starkly different in one respect. It was clearly not lived in-save the black suitcase on the bed.

"My place while I'm here," Melody explained taking a seat on the couch.

Bucky sat next to her, still leaving a bit of space between them. It was already hard enough to focus as it was with her next to him, legs stretched out leisurely in front of her and smiling. He wasn't going to make it worse by getting too close. 

"When did you get here?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on her face. That method really didn't work either. Her eyes even more penetrating than Bucky remembered.

"Today, about an hour ago."

"Why are you here? It can't be to act as a consult, you're not a neuroscientist or a psychologist."

"Both true, but I was still asked here to consult, sort of anyways." Her thin, bow-shaped lips flickered into a slight smile. The subtle gesture made that warm feeling flare up like fire in Bucky's chest.

"Sort of?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Steve isn't taking your giving up very well."

"I know."

"So, Sharon thought you might change your mind if a doctor you trusted talked to you about treatment options."

"That's why she called you," Bucky finished. "She knew I'd listen to you." He leaned against the back of the couch, father away from Melody when all he wanted to do was get closer.

"It was."

Bucky grinned. "She could've just said 'Mel I need you, please meet me in Wakanda' and that would've been enough to get you out here." He thought Melody would smile at that, but she did not. Instead, her green eyes lost their warmth and turned misty. "Melody?"

She shifted, apparently uncomfortable and crossed her legs, one under the other beneath her. "Yeah," Melody said after a minute. "She could have."

"Are you okay?"

"No," she shrugged. "I'm not okay. But I don't really know what 'okay' is."

Bucky nodded. "I know what you mean." He didn't remember what "okay" was. He hadn't known it since waking up two years ago.

"So I guess that answers my next question." At Bucky's confused look, she explained further. "I was going to ask how you've been."

"Exhausted is a good word," Bucky said, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. That was more effective than looking solely at Melody's face.

"Exhausted how?" She prodded and he could feel the movement vibrate across the couch. "Physically? Emotionally? Mentally?"

"All three," he sighed, closing his eyes. _Seventy,_ he thought. _Seventy times I'd had hope I'd finally be free, have my choices back and seventy times I've been wrong. That'll wear anyone out._

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now," Bucky said, heart rising into his throat as he opened his eyes. He did want to talk to Melody about it, about their failed efforts at some point. But there were more pressing things on his mind at the moment. "I have something else I want to talk about."

He looked over at Melody, who had titled her head a little bit upon hearing that. "Oh?" she asked. "And what might that be? Is it what happened to your arm? Because I'd like to know that."

Bucky only then remembered that his left arm was gone. Blown off in the fight with Tony Stark. "Oh that."

"Yeah," she shifted again, but not in one spot, as she'd done previously. Melody scooted closer to Bucky and touched what remained of his prosthetic arm. Though the sensors had been shorted in the blast, for one moment, impossible as it was, he thought they had come back on. He felt the touch of her hand like a jolt of electricity.

Melody ran her fingers over the slight bit of metal and Bucky's breath hitched at the contact. "You told me you weren't hurt, when you called me. You lied."

Bucky shook his head, trying frantically to find his voice. "I-I didn't lie."

"This couldn't have felt good, whatever happened."

"It didn't," he admitted. "But it wasn't a life-threatening wound. I assumed that was what you wanted to know about. That's always your first concern, isn't it Doctor Frasier?"

"Melody," she corrected, her voice soft. Her fingers slide across the metal, making a hushed sort of sound. In a fraction of a second, Bucky felt her touching his collar. Her fingers were, most unusually, very cold. A large lump began to form in Bucky's throat and almost with phantom motions, he let his hand move to cover hers.

"Melody," he affirmed.

She smiled at him and slid just a little closer. Their shoulders were touching now too. "James," a jolt went through Bucky hearing that. He'd always hated his given name, but he loved it when Melody said it.

"Yes?"

She ducked her head, but her smile was still visible. "I...It's just," she sighed and before Bucky could speak, she looked up, a film of tears in her eyes and before Bucky could move to wipe them away, Melody threw herself at him, knocking him backwards and his head struck the armrest, sending a radiating ache through his skull.

He barely had time to notice the discomfort however, as a much more powerful sensation overtook him. Bucky was acutely aware of Melody holding tightly to him. Like she never wanted to let go.

"It's so good to see you," she whispered into his chest and Bucky felt warm tears slide down onto his shirt. "I've missed you so much."

Bucky let his remaining arm snake around her, holding tight as well. The world shrunk in that moment. There weren't any people waiting just a few doors away for them. There was no secret base in Wakanda. There wasn't even this room, all that was left, all that mattered was Melody.

"I've missed you too," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You have no idea how much I've missed you." Missing her hadn't been agony, as it had been when they first said goodbye. It wasn't like that. It was like an ache. Nothing unmanageable, but it was always there. Constant and impossible to completely ignore, even at the best of times. But the ache was gone now, healed as he held the doctor to his chest.

"I can breathe again," Melody said into his chest and Bucky sat upright, heart aching, but for an entirely different reason now.

Melody sat up as well, but she didn't let go of him. If Bucky had two hands, he would've used one to lift her face to to look at him. However, that was not the case and so he had to take another approach.

"Melody," he said, "look at me."

She obliged and Bucky saw tears shining in her eyes. They weren't from sorrow, as he'd so often seen in their previous together. He said nothing however, he'd run out of words to say. Actions, however, were another matter entirely.

Bucky bent his head and his eyes closed as their lips touched. A bitter taste of coffee clung to Melody-odd given the late hour of the day, but so familiar. She always tasted like coffee.

Her arms locked around his neck, drawing closer, chest to chest and Bucky could feel a heartbeat-his or hers, he didn't know, beating erratically. It didn't matter who it was, what mattered was that Melody was holding him and he was holding her. She was real. She was here and she loved him still. Time had changed so much, Bucky knew that, but that hadn't changed for them. Not at all.

After what could've been several seconds or several days, they broke apart, but stayed close. Bucky felt their foreheads touch.

"James," Melody said, her voice breathless. Her hand glided away from Bucky's neck and curled around his cheek.

"Yes?"

She slumped against his chest and snuggled close. "I'm tired," as if to prove it, Melody yawned quiet loudly.

Bucky laughed and reached up, letting his fingers drag across her back before he began playing with her hair. The strands were softer than he remembered. "Long shift?"

"Long shift, long flight and very tired as a result." Her words began to slur and Bucky knew she was well on her way to sleep.

Bucky yawned as well, remembering that he'd been wanting to sleep when Steve had come for him. His eyes began to shut, and he had a feeling he wouldn't dream. _And even if I do,_ he thought as he drifted off, his arm still around Melody. _I have a nightingale to sing me to sleep._


	9. Nine

Melody was awoken from sleep when she heard James's sharp intake of breath and was shoved upright. Luckily, she had learned long ago how to catch herself as she fell and managed to stay on the couch.

In the dark room, she realized two things. One it was late out, given the pitch black state of the room.The other was that James was sitting upright and panting-a nightmare had torn him from sleep.

"Are you alive?" The words came easily to her and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw James's eyes focus on her.

"Melody," he said, voice rough with fear. His hand reached towards her and grabbed her wrist, gently pulling her towards him and wrapping his arm around her, holding her like she kept him from drowning.

Melody said nothing as she rested her head on his chest, as she'd done just before falling asleep. His heartbeat wasn't gentle and resting then. It was rapid, but slowing even as they just laid still. Already, he was breaking free from his nightmare. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice sounded loud in the quiet room, but it wasn't the only one. The chirping and howling of animals in the jungle below them.

James breathed deeply and Melody felt his fingers trace shapes into her back. A sigh escaped her lips against her will, pleasure running through her body at the gesture. She'd missed this so much since he'd left.

"It was more of the same. Missions Hydra had sent me on, people I killed."

"You didn't have a choice." Melody said sharply and James sighed, his fingers ceasing their movement on her back.

"Yeah, but I still did it."

Melody had no idea what to say to that. In many ways, she was able to relate very strongly to James and what he'd gone through. She knew what it was like to be abused, treated as less than human, but in others, she was completely clueless. She'd been through horrible things in her lifetime, but being brainwashed was not one of them.

"I don't know what that's like," she said finally, wishing there was more she could do to help him. "But if you ever want to talk about it, just tell me. I'll be there."

"I know you will," James's lips brushed the top of her head and he held her even closer. Like he never wanted to let her go. "That's how you are. You're always there when I need you."

Her mind flashed back, unwillingly to the conversation she'd had with Sharon. She'd used the same word then too; "need". The same word that had summoned Melody to Sharon's side halfway across the country or wherever she happened to be. The word she'd hoped would elicit the same response in her friend. The crushing feeling when she'd been wrong...Melody grit her teeth, feeling her eyes burn with tears. She blinked several times, trying to get them under control before James noticed, but it was in vain. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, rubbing her back again as he tried to soothe her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied. "I'm fine."

"When your ready to be honest tell me," James said dryly and Melody discovered the downside of having someone know her so well-she couldn't get away with lying anymore. Annoyance flickered through her a moment, but it was quickly chased away by a different feeling. A gentle, liberating sensation-being able to breathe. That was the only way to describe it. She didn't have to keep on guard, didn't have to be careful with James. It was the only time she was truly free.

"It's not that important," she said at last. Melody was not going to lie to him. She lied to everyone-or at least, it had been everyone until James. Now she had one person who she could trust implicitly. "I don't want to bother you with it."

"If it upset you it's important. Talk to me."

Melody rolled her eyes. "I'll sound stupid." She whispered, an embarrassed blush staining her face. 

"Why?"

"You've been through so much," she said, tracing meaningless lines into his chest. Her fingers made a small hushing sound against the material of his tank top. "More than I could ever dream up. What's bugging me is so small compared to all that."

James snorted. "That's weak logic Melody," he said. "If you can't be upset because someone had it worse than there's only one person alive who has the right to be upset over anything." He sighed, his gravely voice losing it's rather annoyed edge. "Talk to me Nightingale. Let me help you."

The use of his pet name for her chipped away some of her reluctance. "I don't think it can be solved."

"Help doesn't always mean solving a problem," James said, his hand trailing up her back and lifting away. Melody was about to protest the change, but the words died in her throat as she felt his fingers stroke her hair. "Sometimes, just being there is a great help anyway. Even if it doesn't fix the problem. Believe me, I know that pretty well."

 _I bet you do,_ Melody thought, closing her eyes, letting herself get lost for a moment as he comforted her. But she wouldn't stay silent anymore either. She didn't have to and though it was frightening, she took a deep breath and began to speak. 

"After you left, I thought a lot about what you asked me to do. And I tried to do it. I tried to live better." Her lips flickered up into a smile at the quote, but there was no happiness in it. Melody didn't feel happy thinking about that, it just left her feeling drained. "Some things came easier to me, like going bowling with my scrubs nurses a few times. That was easier than I'd thought it'd be. And I went to an art museum too, with Doctor Richards-that was an eventful night."

"Eventful?" James echoed thoughtfully, still stroking her hair. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Richards went into labor," Melody said, recalling the joy she'd felt after the fact. "I had to deliver her baby via C-Section right there in the museum."

"C-Section is a surgery right?"

"Right."

"You've done them before."

"Nope, I'd scrubbed in on one when I was a fourth year resident. I had to call," she almost said Derrick's name but stopped, she didn't want to talk about him. "I had to call one of the pediatric surgeons in the hospital, they talked me through the procedure. The ambulance arrived fifteen minutes after William was born."

"Sounds like you were doing what I asked," James commented, pride coloring his voice and that made Melody's heart swell. 

"Not everything though," she reminded him, fingers curling into his shirt. "You told me to tell Sharon. I didn't. Not for a long time."

"But?" James prompted gently.

"Two weeks ago I tried. I wasn't ready to tell her everything, but I thought I could start small. I was going to tell her about Moira. So I called Sharon, I told her I needed to talk to her."

"And?"

Tears pricked her eyes and Melody blinked, sending them down her face. "She said she was really busy, asked if we could talk later." She blinked again, warm tears washing down her cheeks despite her desire for them to stop. "I know that she was telling me the truth, but...I've been busy too when she's called me. I've given up once-in-a-lifetime surgeries for her, I've bailed on events I was supposed to attend because she said 'Mel I need you'. And when I said it..." Melody broke off, choking on her tears, muscles tensing up like coiled wires.

James shifted and Melody felt his arm leave her hair and rest around her torso. "Nightingale," he whispered, voice hoarse.

"I wasn't enough," she whined into his chest, shoulders shaking as she cried. "She wouldn't chose me."

Melody lapsed into silence, unable to say more, but speaking this aloud drudged up some memories to the surface. Things she wanted to forget. Things about Moira.  The hope she'd felt, laying in that hospital bed the day she had killed John. The hope that they could be a family. The crushing reality that they would never be that. Melody had thought she'd left that feeling behind when she was fourteen, when she'd gotten her GED and applied to the undergraduate program for Pre-Med.

But she had been wrong. She hadn't left that feeling behind at all, it was just reborn in a new form. This time Sharon was what crushed her hope. Melody had hoped she could come clean, be honest with the only person who'd ever treated her like family, but that had been a false hope as well. She'd tried and been shut down. Melody, once again, had not been enough.

"Sh," James whispered, still holding her close. "It's okay."

"I know I sound like an idiot," she apologized, getting herself under control and wiping away her tears. 

"No you don't. You sound like you've been hurt. And you have every right to be. It's okay." He kissed the top of her head. "Cry if you want to Melody, it's okay."

Melody blinked. She'd never been told that before. John hated when she cried. The sound bothered him, made him angry. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that tears weren't acceptable in that household. She'd cried later in life, but it had been a harder thing to manage. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize either. You do not have anything to be sorry for."

Melody sighed. "I know that, I'm just..."

"I know," James said, voice low. Melody didn't doubt it was the truth. If anyone knew what it was like, trying to unlearn years of conditioning it was him. "I'll help you get that out of your head somehow, promise."

Melody smiled despite how tired she was. Her round of crying had drained her of the alertness she usually experienced when James woke up from nightmares. "Thanks, for listening." 

"That's what I'm here for." He whispered and Melody felt him shift again, not moving closer, if that were even possible, but away.

"James?" she wondered aloud, already missing the warmth of his body.

He kept a lose grip on her waist and in the dim light she saw James's head tilt. His chin-length hair swaying at the motion. "Come on," he lifted her up with surprising strength and Melody found her feet on the soft carpet. 

Confused, but too tired to question anything, Melody allowed herself to be led through the dark room and she soon found her question answered as James helped her into the bed. As he tucked the covers around her, Melody closed her eyes, feeling more content than she could recall being in a very long time.

She smiled as she felt James lay next to her, his arm sliding around her waist and spooning into her. "Go to sleep," he said, voice low as he kissed her cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Promise?" Melody whispered even as she began to drift into the blackness of sleep. This whole day, from the moment she heard him call her name again to falling asleep in his arms again had been wonderful. Too wonderful to be real. As much feedback as her senses gave her, part of Melody couldn't help but fear that it was a dream. Her life was never this happy anymore. Not in the waking world. Only in her dreams.

"I promise," James's voice was fuzzy in her mind. "Sweet dreams, I love you." The sound made Melody smile, but she wasn't sure if it was real, or if it was only a dream.


	10. Ten

Bucky awoke early the night morning, right as the sky was turning grey outside. Comfortable as he was, laying next to Melody, he did not stay there. Rather, he gave her a light kiss and removed himself from the little apartment. 

Steve would probably be hunting for him soon and Bucky didn't want him to worry. Hearing what Melody had said last night about Sharon had made him a little more grateful for Steve. Overbearing as the punk sometimes was, he was always there for Bucky and had never once turned him away when he needed him.

Hearing the heartbreak in the doctor's voice as she spoke about her lack of that, it had hurt Bucky-and taught him to value what he had. So, with that in mind, he returned to his own apartment on the base and sat down at the desk, scrawling in his journal as he did some mornings.

However, he did not get much farther than opening to a blank page before a knock on the door interrupted him. Bucky had barely turned around and said, "Who is it?" before Steve let himself in the room. Unlike other days, he was not carrying a breakfast tray with him, but he looked rather agitated, his jaw tense and strides long and stomping.

"Bad day already?" Bucky asked as Steve flopped onto the couch and rested his face in his hands, breathing hard and grumbling incoherent words. 

"Bad few days," Steve admitted, lifting his head and leaning back against the couch. "Really bad few days."

Bucky pushed himself away from the desk, the legs of the chair scrapping along the floor. Without invitation, he sat down next to Steve and he did not look at his friend when spoke next. "Is this about what Sharon told you?" Steve had not really confronted Bucky about the fact that he'd hidden from him for a over half a year with the help of his girlfriend. They'd spoken a little bit, the other day, but not much outside of that. Bucky knew Steve well enough to know that it still bothered him.

"A bit," he admitted after several tense moments. "I thought I could trust her."

"You can," Bucky said instantly. "Sharon's a good person."

"She lied to me." Steve said in a low voice, anger and betrayal radiating off every word he spoke. "She threw me off when I was looking for you, I see that now. She knew where you were the whole time and never said anything."

"She never lied to you, not technically anyways. You never asked her directly if she knew where I was." Bucky reminded him, which just earned him a sharp glare. "But you're right, she _did_ throw off your search-but it was because I asked her to. When I first contacted her, her first suggestion was to go to you, but I shot it down. That was my fault."

Steve said nothing so Bucky took the time to speak.

"I know you're mad and like I said yesterday, you have every right to be. But....Don't end things with her over this. Sharon was just trying to do the right thing." Bucky's mind flashed to Tony Stark's face in the Siberian base as he'd glared at Steve, demanding to know the truth. "Just like you tried to do with Stark," he added softly, hating himself for it but knowing it had to be said. Steve did have a right to be angry, but what was more important was that he understood the situation. The choice Sharon had made hadn't been black and white. It was not clear cut. It was all shades of grey area. Steve knew that too, even if his anger had blinded him to it for a while.

Steve's jaw clenched. "It's not the same."

"Not the same circumstance," Bucky corrected. "But the same principle. You both did what you thought was right, even if it involved hiding something from someone you cared about. And it wasn't just about me either, she was trying to protect Melody."

"You mean Doctor Frasier?"

"Yep."

"She goes by Mel," Steve corrected, apparently confused by name. Perhaps he hadn't known what it was in full. 

"I know that. But what I'm saying is this, Melody's not an agent or a superhero, she's just a normal person. Getting involved in this stuff, it's dangerous, even if her names stays off records. Sharon was looking out for her too."

Steve said nothing for a while but Bucky saw his mouth flicker into something akin to a smile. "You know, apparently she operated on me once."

"I did know that, she told me." 

Steve gave Bucky a confused look. "She did?"

"I asked how she got involved in everything. Apparently you were the first time Sharon called in a favor with her. Well if you don't count the time she showed up at Melody's front door with a stab wound in her abdomen." Steve turned white when he heard that.  "She was fine obviously," Bucky added hastily. "She had a good doctor looking after her. One of the best."

Steve didn't look so convinced of that. "Did she ever have to do anything like that to you?"

"I had to get stitches once," Bucky admitted. "But nothing more serious than that. It took maybe fifteen minutes at the most."

Steve was silent for a long time before he talked again. "If something more serious had happened..." He trailed off, hands clenching into tight fists as a thousand possible situations ran through his mind. "If something worse had happened to you besides stitches, could Doctor Frasier have handled it?"

Bucky shrugged. "Would've depended on what happened, but I think she could've done it. She's done a fair amount of procedures without much supplies. Like last winter," Bucky grinned, swelling with pride as he thought of the incredible skill of his nightingale. "She was an art museum with a coworker of hers who was expecting at the time. Long story short, she had to deliver the kid via C-section right there in the museum. She had a pediatric surgeon on the phone telling her how to do it."

"And it worked?" Steve blurted, eyes wide and Bucky laughed.

"Yeah it did, both mom and baby were completely fine."

Steve whistled. "Wow," he slouched farther on the couch. "She's crazy, brave but crazy."

"She's brilliant too," Bucky added. "You have to be to be a surgeon."

Steve shrugged. Apparently he didn't care much about how much skill and training it took to be a surgeon. Bucky had been like that once, then he'd fallen in love with one. "So," Steve asked, "did the brilliant doctor convince you to come back to the lab?"

Now it was Bucky's turn to glare at Steve. "No. She didn't. It wasn't even brought up."

"What?" Steve said flatly, eyes narrowing. 

"She fell asleep. But even if she hadn't," Bucky added sharply. "I don't think it would've made a difference. I'm done Steve."

"Buck-."

"I'm done," he repeated tersely. "If you're going to keep pushing me on it, please just leave."

"Bucky-." Steve began, his voice caring a steely emotion, one that meant he wasn't backing down and Bucky wasn't going to deal with it. Not anymore. 

"Leave." He said flatly, standing upright, his spine like steel as he turned away from Steve. "I'm done Steve. Leave me alone."

He didn't hear Steve move behind him, but he didn't need to. It was always like this for the Avenger. Battling between a desire to keep fighting, keep going and the knowledge that it was a losing fight.

"Fine," Steve said finally. "I'll leave. Oh and before I forget," there was a shifting noise and then something with a bit of weight hit the couch. "I got Sharon to collect my stuff from my apartment. Some of the things I had belonged to you from back when, I thought you might want them back."

There was a sound of a door shutting, though it sounded much harder than necessary and Bucky was alone once again. Suddenly, his morning wasn't so good either.


	11. Eleven

A knock pulled Melody from sleep and she winced upon opening her eyes. Acting instinctively, she ducked her head  under the covers, trying to shield her gaze from the harsh, blinding glare of the sun.

"Mel?" Sharon's voice accompanied another knock. "You awake?" there was a jostling of a door handle, but Melody already knew the door would not open. She'd locked it yesterday when she'd brought James there. A precaution she would've undertaken at any point, as she wouldn't risk someone opening the door and seeing her undressed at any time.

However, with James, things were different and the very last thing she wanted was to be caught naked with him. Then she'd have even more to explain.

"I'm coming," she grumbled, face warmth as she recalled just how many times she had been undressed around James Barnes. "Give me a moment." Melody threw off the covers, eyes now relatively adjusted to the blinding sunlight. Given it's strength, she assumed it must have been sometime in the afternoon that she'd woken up. 

She stood up, feet brushing the wooden floor and tugged at the hem of her blouse, along with the sleeves to ensure that they were covering everything she wanted covered. When she was satisfied that nothing was exposed, Melody walked over to the door and unlocked it.

"Morning," she said to Sharon who was already dressed for the day in a simple black t-shirt and jean shorts. Appropriate given the humidity of the climate. Though the AC was in working order in the building, Melody had no doubt the air was thick with moisture and sticky outside.  In her hands was a sizable tray laden with what looked like a sandwich and a bowl of something, but what it was Melody couldn't tell, as the top was covered.

"It's twelve in the afternoon," Sharon corrected. "But I'm glad to see the dead have awoken."

Melody ignored the jibe and fiddled with one of the buttons on her shirt. "Why didn't you wake me up? Has something happened? What-?"

Sharon shook her head. "Calm down Mel. Nothing happened, I just let you sleep in."

"You should have woken me up," Melody frowned, "I need to adjust-."

"What you needed was sleep. You had been awake for at least twenty-four hours and that whole thing about sleeping on a plane? Please. Unless you're on a private aircraft the chances of getting decent sleep on a plane are low. I saw right through you. I also brought you some food, figured you'd be hungry."

"As always your perception is impressive Agent Carter," Melody said, smiling playfully, feeling warmer towards Sharon though the disappointment in her still lingered inside Melody. But quick as the thought came, she pushed it away. Melody did not want to think of something so dreary right then. The sun was shining-promising a beautiful day indeed. She was in a secret base that was owned by both a superhero and a prince, all of which made matters quiet interesting and best yet, she'd seen James yesterday. She'd held him again, talked to him and kissed him again-all things she'd never thought they would do again. 

Being wrong had never been so wonderful.

Her friend rolled her eyes, oblivious to the thoughts rolling around in Melody's head. "It's not even perception Mel, it's just common sense."

Melody smiled, "So what's for lunch?" she asked, even as her empty stomach twisted with hunger. 

"It's tomato soup and grilled cheese." 

"You didn't need to bring that here," Melody said even as she stepped aside to allow Sharon inside. "I could've made that myself."

Sharon set the tray on the table and her smiling expression suddenly became very serious. "You are not allowed to cook here."

"Oh come on," Meloyd complained, arms crossing deftly over her chest. "That was one time!"

"You set the stove on fire," Sharon reminded her even as she took a seat the table.

"Once!"

"Aunt Peggy was still getting cards from the fire department years later. And the last time you were near a stove you tried to make pancakes and wound up with charcoal instead."

"Once!" Melody objected again, flushing dark red as she recalled that day.

"You've lost your stove privileges." Sharon said in a flat voice as she laced her fingers together. "Accept it and move on. This isn't your house and kind as T'challa is, I don't think he'll react well if you burn down his secret lair."

Melody, still blushing furiously sat down at the table as well and began to attack the sandwich. It was still warm and the cheese was salty and gooey. "I think 'secret lair' implies something more sinister." 

Sharon shrugged. "Fine then, secret hideout or whatever you want to call it. Either way it's a nice piece of property and I don't think we should light it on fire by allowing  you into a kitchen."

Melody polished off half the sandwich. "I won't burn it down."

"I'm not taking the chance. So," Sharon helped herself to a grape from the bunch that were also on the tray. Melody had not taken notice of them before. "Did you talk with Bucky yesterday?"

"Yes." It wasn't a lie. They had talked a little bit, though it had taken a backseat for a moment when they'd kissed. However, Sharon did not need to know that. As much as she liked Steve, Melody doubted she carried similar warm feelings towards James. And even if she did, it was likely they would vanish if she knew about his involvement with Melody. 

"And how'd he take it? Steve tried to talk to him earlier this morning, but it was the same deal as usual." She looked up sharply from the handful of grapes she was eating, her face hard. "He wasn't rude to you was he? Because I swear, I do not care who he is, I will kick-."

"He and I never talked about the treatment." Melody interrupted, watching as the angry tension in Sharon's posture faded out. "We both fell asleep before it got to that point."

Sharon gave her a flat sort of glare. "Really?"

"Like you said, I'd been awake for twenty-seven hours-I was tired."

"I said twenty-four."

Melody stopped mid-chew on the last bit of grilled cheese. _Whoops._ "Well either one is a long time to go without sleep," she said hastily, hoping to change the subject before Sharon could ride her about healthier sleeping habits. For as much as her friend nagged her about that, one would have thought Sharon was the doctor rather than Melody.

"That's not healthy."

"All doctors do it, doesn't matter. So, back to the topic at hand-no I haven't yet tried to talk James into going back into the lab."

"He doesn't go by James."

"I know that," Melody finished the last of her sandwich and moved onto the soup. It was slightly cold but she was too hungry to care and spooned some of it into her mouth. The creamy liquid ran down her dry throat in a way that was quiet soothing. 

"Oh wait," Sharon's eyes sparked with recognition. "He told me that you agreed to let him call you by your full name if you got to use his."

"Yep," Melody swallowed another mouthful of soup.

 "How'd you guys agree on that one anyways? I never asked, but I am curious."

"He asked me why I went by Mel when Melody was a nice name by itself." Melody took another swallow of soup, but it no longer tasted so good. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her relationship with James. Sharon didn't know the details of it and  Melody found things were better off that way.

Sharon wouldn't approve at all. She'd rant and lecture all about how James was  a wanted criminal, damaged by his time in Hydra and how that would be dangerous for her. How, no matter what either of them felt for each other, the situation was impossible. He was the Winter Solider and she was a civilian, a doctor who would lose her job and credibility if anyone ever knew that she loved a former agent of Hydra.

Melody had considered all those points already. They were the same things she'd told herself night after night in her parents house as James held her when they slept.  Before she'd crossed that invisible line and kissed him the first time...There had been no going back after that. 

Sharon made a sound like static across a radio. "Paging Doctor Frasier, Earth to Mel."

"What sorry?" 

"I said do you think he'll listen to you, Bucky I mean. He won't listen to Steve and Steve's his best friend and your...well not like that."

Melody certainly agreed with that statement. Draining the last of the soup from the bowl, forgoing the spoon entirely, she considered Sharon's question. "Yeah, I'm not Steve, but maybe that's a good thing." _Being a bestfriend only carries so much weight, though I don't know what a...._ Melody's thoughts broke off, stopped short by confusion. What were they? They weren't dating, as they'd never been on a date since knowing each other. They weren't friends with benefits, as their connection was so much more than physical...

They were something, Melody knew that, but she didn't think there was a word to describe what that something was. Probably never would be. As far as she was aware, the world had never seen two people quiet like them fall in love.

A man who'd been alive decades before she had even been born, abducted and turned into an assassin before breaking free and regaining control and appearing no older than she was. A woman who'd discovered her own ability to kill before she was even a teenager and been so revolted by it that she'd turned it into her own secret tool when she tried to save lives.

The should never have met, never have found each other, nor learned each others secrets and they had. They should have never fallen in love-and yet that had been exactly what happened. There was never a history class that talked about love stories like that.

"What do you mean by that?"

Melody wasn't going to answer that one truthfully, so she kept herself in check as she told the lie. "Well, he knows what Steve will think-maybe hearing it from more than one source will get him to consider that there might be more to the argument than he wants to think."

Sharon beamed. "I didn't even think of that one! But I suppose you've got practice with difficult patients by now huh? And even more so with him, I remember how much of an ass he used to be with you."

Melody shrugged. Those incidents felt like several lifetimes ago. She remembered them of course, but those memories were dim. Pale in comparison to what had come afterwards. "It wasn't his fault."

"Oh please," Sharon snorted. "I get the guy had been having a rough time, but that's not an excuse to treat people poorly. _Especially_   when that someone was risking so much to help him." 

"Let it go Sharon."

"No,"  The agent crossed her arms, the muscles so tense it looked as though she had atrophy. "I won't let it go. I don't care what he went through, he had no right to treat you like that. And besides, you've had horrible stuff happen to you too and you don't treat people like that."

Melody had been about to reach for the grapes but her arm dropped hearing that and her blood turned to ice water in her veins.  It didn't go unnoticed by Sharon either.

"Mel, I didn't mean-."

"I know," Melody said, her lips feeling strangely numb as she dragged her arm back towards her. "It's fine."

"I didn't mean that what happened...I didn't think...I thought..." Sharon trailed off, face red and she looked furious with herself. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like talking about it."

"No," she agreed, still feeling ice cold. "I don't." She hated talking about her supposed past. Hated the questions, hated the pitying gazes and hated juggling the lies, familiar as they had become. It was still too close. Still too near the horrible truth. If it got out, if anyone knew, she'd lose everything. Her life would fall apart. The life she'd built for herself, brick by brick, through the skin of her teeth and sheer will to survive would be smashed to ruin for good. If anyone ever knew what happened, what she could do, what she was _still capable_ of doing and did every single day in her OR they would ban her from it for good. How skilled she was would not matter, how smart and talented she was would not be enough.

And then she'd have nothing. 

A prison cell maybe where she would be all alone, left with nothing but the ghosts of her past and that dark, unfeeling place inside. The one she'd tried so desperately to turn into something to be used for good, to remind herself that she could make good choices, do good things, even if she was capable of murder. Even if she could have moments of no feeling, moments without humanity-that she was still human at her core.

That she was more than the blood on her hands. 

That she wasn't her father who was so cruel and willing to create pain and suffering. That she wasn't her mother, who was so indifferent to pain that she'd almost allowed her own child to die...

"Mel?" Sharon asked timidly and Melody was freed of her morbid thoughts.

"I'm okay," she lied. "Just still waking up. Is there any coffee around here?"

Sharon's shy expression relaxed a bit. "It's twelve o'clock in the afternoon."

"I don't need that sort of negativity in my life Sharon," Melody said, smiling hoping it would relax her friend more and she was right. The agent tossed her long hair over her shoulder and grinned.

"You're addicted."

"I can quit whenever I want."

"Quit now," she challenged.

"I don't want to quit." Melody stood up, pushing her chair back and peered into the tiny kitchen, seeing a few cupboards and hope expanded in her chest. She made a move towards them, but Sharon grabbed her wrist.

"They're empty, we didn't have time to stock them yet."

Melody narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying that just or are you serious?"

"Mel, I value my life too much to get between you and your coffee." She smiled at the murder joke, but Melody didn't have it in her. The joke was more true than funny. Though Melody did know she'd never kill anyone over something as trivial as coffee.

"Where can I grab some then? Does this place have a coffee shop too?" 

Sharon grinned. "Nope, but I think Bucky has some stored in his apartment-if you ask nicely he'll probably give you some." Melody's heart skipped a beat. "And maybe you can talk to him then, the sooner the better right?"

"Yeah," Melody agreed, not even fully sure of what she was saying. "Let's go." 


	12. Tweleve

Bucky leaned intently over his journal, pen scratching at the paper as he recorded his mostly uneventful day so far. The practice was one he'd learned from Melody, her insistence on it had annoyed him to the point of shouting once, now he rarely went a day without writing something down in a journal. The practice helped calm him down, helped organized his thoughts-a thing he sorely needed, especially after he and Steve had fought.

The whole matter had left Bucky boiling with annoyance-he wished Steve would just the matter go. It wasn't his choice to make and as much as Bucky loved and valued his friend, said friend also needed to learn to mind his own damn business and respect other people's choices. But alongside that annoyance was something else-disappointment in both himself and Steve respectively. 

Bucky had promised himself, after hearing Melody's story about how Sharon had let her down, failed to be there that he was going to value Steve being there more. Annoying as the stubborn punk could be, he always had Bucky's back, no matter what. And right after he'd promised to value that more, Bucky had failed miserably, their conversation turning into an argument in about ten seconds that had ended when Bucky kicked him out of the apartment. 

That wasn't exactly appreciative at all. Those two emotions had warred in him for the rest of the day afterwards, rendering him unable to sleep or focus on anything else but the fight. And so, after a few attempts to fall back asleep, cleaning (which wasn't even that needed in the space) and picking up the little plastic bag of his old belongings. Bucky hadn't looked through them yet, he'd do it later, he didn't much feel like lingering on his past right now. The man he'd been then wasn't someone he liked to remember. It was too painful.

And so, he was left to scribble out his messy emotions and the events into his journal, and that helped a bit, but it didn't solve the issues either. He sighed and pushed himself away from the desk, staring at the ink on the pages. Not a great deal happened today and there was only so much he could write about.

Or rather, so much that he would write about. He had one other thing pressing on his mind besides his fight with Steve-and that was Melody. Bucky still couldn't believe her arrival in Wakanda, that he'd seen her again, held her and kissed her-the very things he sometimes dreamed about doing with her again. He had thought those things would remain only in dreams, that they'd become the closet he ever got to the doctor again.

He'd been wrong. 

Her arrival had brought back a new swell of feelings. Some were welcome, like the love and happiness he'd felt so many times with her, but other ones plagued him now. These thoughts had struck him when he'd awoken that morning, his arm around Melody, her sleeping peacefully beside him as though no time had passed.

Seeing her again was wonderful, knowing she still loved him was even better, but the reunion, he realized was fragile, temporary. Like tissue paper in a rainstorm. It was going to fall apart sooner or later. Bucky had realized that as he held her, realized that this wasn't a life she could live. Melody couldn't hide from the world with him. She had a life outside of him, a life in New York with a career she loved, a career that was, in her eyes, what redeemed her from an act of evil. (Well evil according to her, Bucky still believed John Frasier's death had been a service to the world.) But in that matter, Bucky's opinions didn't' matter. Melody would never see it that way and so, she could never cease her medical practice. She'd never be happy if she did.

And was just one issue. Two larger ones came into play. Even if somehow, Melody could cease being a practicing surgeon to stay with Bucky, the matter of her safety still remained. Those trigger words were still in his mind, still there and able to turn him into a machine that had no identity and would kill without question. She couldn't be around that, not for long-Bucky would never allow her to take that risk. He'd flee Wakanda himself if he had to. He wouldn't play with her life like that-Melody was too precious to him. Then, if he were to reconsider going into the lab (and Bucky certainly wasn't doing that, there was no point) and somehow, if by some miracle they fixed the brainwashing it didn't erase the enemies he'd earned in his time as a weapon. Those people were ruthless and Melody would become a target, a way to lure him into traps to either kill or recapture him and return him to Hydra. That wasn't a life Melody could live either. 

All those factors combined meant one thing: sooner or later (and it was likely sooner) Bucky would have to say goodbye to Melody again. The first time had torn his heart in half, the second time had poured salt into the old wounds and he really didn't want to think about what a third time at goodbye would be like. _Maybe,_ he thought, _I'll have gotten used to the idea by the time it comes. Maybe it'll be easier._   But even as the thoughts came to him, Bucky knew it wasn't true. Saying goodbye to Melody would never become less painful for one simple reason: Bucky didn't want to say goodbye to her again. He wanted to say hello each morning when they woke up next to each other, bid her a short goodbye as she ran off to work and then be there when she came to home and say hello again as she jabbered about her day. Or, if it had been a difficult one, if the bad days had built up and the ghosts of her past had come back to haunt her, Bucky wanted to be there to hold her in the present.

He didn't want just a past with Melody Frasier, he wanted a present and he wanted a future.

Bucky hung his head, breathing heavily. The things he seemed to want the most were impossible to attain. Before Bucky had a chance to dwell more on those depressing thoughts, a knock at his door broke through the melancholy in his mind and he looked up from the floor.

"Who is it?" he asked carefully. Bucky wasn't ready to talk to Steve again, he didn't want to fall into another argument again. 

"I need coffee," Melody's voice was clear from behind the door. "Open up or I'm breaking it down."

Bucky rose to his feet instantly and unlocked the door. Melody was standing in the threshold, feet bare, wearing a black shirt with sleeves that reached her elbows but were not full in length as well as jean shorts. 

"Good man," Melody said cheerfully, letting herself into the room without invitation and she moved confidently into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets to find coffee grounds.

"Isn't it a bit late for coffee?" Bucky asked, closing the door, eyes falling on her as she opened the can of Folgers. "Or did you just wake up?" He remembered she was still on New York time.

"Just woke up," she confirmed. "And that means I need caffeine."

"I know," he said, smiling. He'd seen Melody suffer from withdrawal headaches due to lack of coffee and she became quiet unpleasant as a result. He wasn't eager to deal with that side of her. 

Melody scooped a cup of grounds into the coffee maker and pressed a few buttons. "Sleep well?" 

She already knew about the nightmare so Bucky assumed she was asking about afterwards. When he'd moved both of them into bed. "Pretty well," he admitted. He hadn't dreamed after the first nightmare. "You?"

"I don't think an ambulance siren could've woken me up." There was a soft trickling of water padding into the bottom of the empty coffee pot and Melody eyed the dark liquid with eager eyes.  Bucky smiled, he'd seen that expression on her face so many times. He'd missed it. 

Not sure of what else to do, he strode over the couch and plopped down, careful to avoid the bag of his things Steve had dropped off before he'd left. Bucky had barely gotten comfortable when Melody sat down on the opposite side of the couch, a white mug in her hands with steam curling off the top. 

"So," she said, taking a sip of her drink and tucking her toes under Bucky's leg. He winced, they felt like ice, a bit unusual too. Usually he was the one with cold feet. "You know that Steve and the rest of them brought me here to talk to you about going back to the treatments right?"

"I know." Bucky said, feeling apprehension tighten his chest. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Melody asked, taking another sip of coffee, her green eyes holding his gaze.

Bucky shook his head. Talking about it with anyone wouldn't change his mind about things. He didn't want to waste whatever time he had left with Melody on pointless matters. "No."

Melody swallowed her coffee and her gaze didn't leave his. "Okay."

"Okay?" Bucky repeated, his voice a bit higher than normal as he stared wide-eyed at Melody. "No nagging? No prepared arguments about how you went through eight years of college, seven of residency and whatnot to convince me to listen to your arguments?" He'd been expecting them. She'd used them the last time he'd refused her help and what was more, Melody was stubborn as Steve sometimes. Not in all matters, but in matters that concerned the health and well-being of other people. She had to save them if she could and she wouldn't give up, not until there was truly nothing else she could do.

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," she said, a half smile forming on her face. "Like you said, I'm not a neuroscientist nor am I a shrink. I'm not the sort of expert who can help you here. So those arguments about how smart and qualified I am really don't work right now."

"You are smart though. Probably one of the smartest people I know."

"I know that," Melody said with a shrug. At Bucky's questioning look she raised her eyebrows. "What? False modesty is pointless-I know how intelligent I am and I'm not going to downplay the fact. Don't get anywhere in surgery doing that, trust me."

Bucky grinned as they fell into their pattern. It was easy and relaxing as sinking into a hot bath. "Does arrogance help you become a better surgeon?"

"It depends just how much arrogance you have," she replied, tracing the rim of her half-empty cup with one long finger.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, surgery more often than not is a way to correct something that normally would've killed someone. We're defying death. You _have_ to be arrogant to do that, to take that scalpel and slice into someone's body, to transplant organs or repair them-everyone can't do that. You have to be confident and sure of your abilities to keep your patients and their loved ones at ease. You're holding their lives on that table. So yes, in some ways, a little arrogance is good for a surgeon it keeps us from freaking out as sometimes, we quiet literally hold someone's heart in our hands. But too much is dangerous. Makes us take unneeded risks, assume we can do things we can't and give false hopes to desperate people."

"It sounds like a hard balance to strike," Bucky commented. It seemed like a thin line, the line between being arrogant enough to change what nature or circumstances had created and humble enough to know that there was only so much that could be done.

Melody nodded. "Sometimes, but I have an easier time with it than most surgeons I know."

"Do you?" 

She drained the last of her coffee. "Yeah, part of the issue is pride. We don't like saying we can't do something, but...pride is an emotion."

Her voice got a bit softer and suddenly, Bucky understood perfectly. Melody didn't have emotions during surgery. If her patient was dead on the table, unable to be brought back, she wouldn't' keep fighting, believing she could outdo death. That wasn't a logical thought, it was an emotional one. Melody never had to worry about that with surgeries-all her choices were logical. It was the only thing her mind allowed for when she flipped that switch.

"I guess that would help," Bucky said, unsure of what was the right thing to say. He knew how Melody felt about that ability. Useful as it was in high-stress environments like surgery, it also terrified her. She'd only discovered it when she'd decide to kill John. That would stain it forever for her, no matter how much good she'd put that state of being to.

Melody smiled but there wasn't any happiness in it. "It does."

Bucky let his hand creep towards her leg, rubbing the calf muscle and he watched, delighted as she leaned her head back and sighed with pleasure. "First you give me coffee and now a massage," she groaned, setting the empty glass on the nearby coffee table. Like every other one around the place, it was made of glass. "You're spoiling me, you know that right?"

"You have low standards for being spoiled," Bucky informed her as he kneaded at the leg muscle, it was surprisingly tense. He let his hand travel farther up, more towards her knee. Her skin was warm and smooth under his hand. Part of Bucky's mind began to wander, wondering if perhaps, she'd react kindly to him moving farther towards the waist of her shorts...

Before he could consider the matter much further though, Melody sat upright, no longer laying back and enjoying Bucky's attempts at a massage. She titled her head and leaned forwards, grabbing the small bag Steve had left him. "What is this?" she asked, studied what she could of the contents through the plastic. 

"It's some of my things, from 1945," he clarified. "Everyone thought I was dead, so my stuff was left to Steve. Sharon managed to get into his place in Brooklyn and grab some of his things there. This is what belonged to me, he thought I should have them back."

Melody studied the bag again, a peculiar expression on her face. "What's all in here then?"

Bucky shrugged. "No idea, I haven't looked yet."

"You and he fought."

"How'd you know?"

"Sharon told me."

"Of course she did," he groaned, taking the small bag from Melody's hands. A second passed as he studied the thing and then he looked up at Melody, smiling. "Want to help me look through it?"

She beamed at him and the sight made his chest hurt. Melody was always beautiful to him, but even more so when she smiled. Bucky couldn't get enough of her smile. "Sure," she said even as she slid over to him, leaning into his side. The contact of her against him sent a jolt through Bucky, not unlike a shock of static electricity. Not painful but not something that could be ignored either. 

Rather clumsily, he dumped out the contents of the bag onto the coffee table and slowly began to pick through them. The first thing that caught his eye the most was his old dog tags. Time had rusted them a bit, but the name "James Buchannan Barnes" was still visible. 

"What are those?" Melody asked.

Bucky handed them off to her. "My dog tags." She held them up to her face, eyes narrowing as she peered at the name. Her jaw dropped and she fell back against the couch laughing. 

"What's so funny?" 

"You're middle name is 'Buchannan'?" she howled, "That's why people call you Bucky?"

Bucky's face flushed. "Yes."

"Oh god, what were your parents thinking!" She giggled again and Bucky took the tags from her and set them on the table again, but away from the main pile. The dog tags were an item he wasn't going to keep. There was no point to them. 

"Well," he said stiffly as he found an old photo of himself and Steve. Steve was still short and scrawny in the photo-before the serum had made him Captain America. "What's yours?"

"What's what?" Melody asked, getting her laughter under control.

"Your middle name," he clarified as he set the photograph down into it's own pile. The one of items he wanted to keep.

"Oh," Melody blinked like an owl as she pulled an old watch from the pile. It was frozen at two-thirty and the wristband was frayed in places. "Rose."

"Rose?" he repeated. "Well damn, I guess  you do have a better name than me. Melody Rose," he tried out the additional name and it rolled off Bucky's tongue like music. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

Melody wrinkled her nose. "Speak for yourself, a feminine name in a male dominated field, doesn't turn some people off at all. Did you want to keep this?" 

"No, put it with the tags," Bucky said as he grabbed yellowed papers-a formal letter that informed his loved ones that he was dead. He balled those up without a second thought and set them next to the broken watch and tags. "And besides," he added, trying to forget how wrong the US Army had been. "Let them underestimate you, it's their mistake to do it. They'll only look like complete idiots later."

Melody snickered as she grabbed another photograph of him and Steve from the pile. She didn't ask if he wanted it, but set it aside along with the other picture. "That's true and the reaction is funny, sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, the pile had been rather small to start with, but now it was nearly gone. Only a few bits of papers and photographs remained now. 

"Well, we had a consult from another hospital come to visit one day. His name was a trauma surgeon like me."

"And?"

"Well he'd heard about a 'Doctor Freezer' from the interns and was quiet eager to meet him."

Bucky frowned as he scanned through another piece of paper. An old comic Steve had drawn, he smiled. He'd forgotten that the punk used to draw. That was definitely something he was going to keep. "You're a woman though."

"Doctor Notting is a sexist bastard," Melody informed him as she picked up a small stub of paper. "This is from a fair, did you want-."

Bucky took it from her and set it in the save pile. "So, he assumed Doctor Freezer was a man then?"

"Yep, and spoke quiet rudely to me when we meet. As per usual I was in the ER and he heard that's where Doctor Freezer was and went to me, demanding quiet rudely to speak to 'him' about a patient, rather than consult with me."

"Asshole," Bucky said, jaw clenching. "So what'd you do?"

Melody grinned rather mischievously. "What else? Sent him on a wild goose chase through the hospital-he wound up missing out on an incredibly surgery which I took and boy was he mad." She laughed, eyes sparkling and the weariness that she usually wore like a coat fading out a little. God, Bucky loved her laugh so much. 

Bucky moved a photograph of the Stark Expo towards his throw pile. He couldn't look at that image without thinking about the fact that he'd murdered Howard a few decades later. He could still see the devastated look on Tony's face when he found out. Bucky didn't need reminders about that.

"So, did he ever find out you were Doctor Freezer?"

"Yep and then he was livid-after he got his jaw off the ground of course," Melody said with another broad grin that disarmed Bucky. He wondered if she knew just how much her smiles effected him. "That was pretty satisfying."

"I bet it was," Bucky agreed, smiling himself as he imagined Melody's smug smile when she watched the ignorant man realize she was the doctor he had been actively seeking to work with. He grabbed another government paper and tossed it into the throw pile when the final item caught his eye. It was a ring and it took a moment, but Bucky did recognize it as he picked it up and studied it. It was a simple band, with a small diamond, barely visible in the center of it. It had belonged to his mother and had become his after she passed away.

He'd kept it to give to the woman he'd married, whoever she was. Though that was nothing more than a dead dream now. Marriage wasn't for people like him-the dream of a wife, home and family were dreams that belonged to him in a different time period. And it was  a time long passed.

"What's that?" Melody's voice shook him out of his thoughts and he shrugged. 

"Oh, it's nothing really," he said even as he poured the small band into her palm. "Just something that belonged to my mother."

Melody held the ring between her index finger and thumb as she studied it. "It's pretty."

"Yeah," he agreed, but he wasn't looking at the ring, he was looking at Melody. "It is." Melody smiled again and unbidden, an image came to Bucky's mind, not a memory, but a vision, a waking dream.

The image was much the same as the one before him now, but subtle changes had been made. Melody was still sitting on the couch, smiling and dressed just as she was now, but one small change was there. She wasn't holding his mother's ring, she was wearing it on her left hand.

He blinked and the image cleared from his mind, but the memory of it filled him with a combination of light, burning happiness and hopeless longing. Bucky wanted that, he wanted so much for that image to be real, but it wasn't. It couldn't be. There was no chance of it. Even if Melody would agree to that, their lives wouldn't allow for it. They might have just been Melody and Bucky to each other, but they weren't that to the rest of the world.

Melody was Doctor Frasier and Bucky was the Winter Solider and those facts couldn't be escaped. No matter how much he wished they could.

Melody spoke up again, "What did you want to do with this?"

"Keep it," he said, knowing it would be smarter to get rid of it. To forget that dream that had flashed into his mind. He didn't even remember his mother, it didn't matter, it was just a ring of metal. And yet...

Melody set it onto the save pile where it clicked against the glass tabletop. "What do you want to with this stuff?" she asked, gesturing to the throw pile. 

"Toss it in the trash, I don't need it." Bucky said. "But later, I'd rather talk with you."

"What about?"

"Anything," he said honestly. "I've missed talking with you."

Melody's eyes sparkled. "I've missed this too. It's..." she trailed off, eyes sliding away from him. "Well, any topic you can think of? My life's kind of boring."

Bucky laughed. "You're in the secret lair of the King of Wakanda who also happens to be the Black Panther, you're talking to an internationally wanted criminal and apparently you can say you've been talked through a complex surgery over the phone by a more experienced doctor and that both patients are alive and well now. How is that boring? It sounds crazy to me."

"I'm used to all the superhero stuff," she said. "And frankly, I found the C-section scarier than all that. Derrick-," Melody broke off, going rather pale and it took her a moment to recover. "He was terrified when we arrived at the hospital. I've never see him so pale."

"Who's Derrick?" Bucky asked feeling wary, both at the name and her reaction to saying it aloud. 

Melody wasn't looking at him anymore. "He's a pediatric surgeon at West Memorial. He talked me through the C-Section."

"And?" He knew there was an "and".  Whoever this Derrick guy was, he was more than just a coworker. There was no other explanation for Melody's behavior.

Melody's face turned red and she still wasn't looking at Bucky. "And he's my ex-boyfriend."


	13. Thirteen

Bucky tried to ignore the sensation of a stone dropping into his stomach when Melody said that. "Oh," he said lamely, unsure of what else to say. "So you've been dating too, since..."

"For a while," Melody said, glancing up at him, but only briefly. 

"What happened?" He asked before he could stop himself. Bucky wasn't sure what her answer would be, part of him was afraid of it, but he still knew he had to know. She wasn't with him now, that part was clear, but she had been and Bucky wanted to know why. He wanted to know what made Derrick special enough to capture Melody's attention, even if it had only been for a while.

Melody sighed. "It's a long story."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He said though he hoped she would. Part of Bucky wanted to push the issue with her, but another part of him would not allow it. She hadn't pushed him about the lab, he wasn't going to push her about her ex. It was the least he could do. 

Melody reached at her throat and at first Bucky was quiet confused as to what she was doing, then he saw the glint of a small chain around her neck and he noticed her fingers were curled around something. _Is that the necklace I sent her?_ He wondered, but he didn't ask. There were more important things that Bucky wanted to know right then. The necklace could wait.

"He and I met a few months after you left, he moved to New York City," Melody said. "And took over as one of the attending's in the Pediatric department. We met while working on the case of a seventeen year old car-crash victim. He took the lead of course, since I'm not in Peds, but I was assisting on the case. He asked afterwards if I was the 'Doctor Freezer' he'd heard so much about."

"He didn't assume you were a male?"

Melody shrugged. "I don't know, I never asked. But he accepted the fact without any shock, he was just impressed-apparently I live up to my name." She smiled again, but it lacked warmth and she was still toying with the necklace.

"So you started dating after that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level which he managed to do with a bit of effort. Bucky hated to admit it, but he really didn't like the way this conversation was going. Though he'd wanted Melody to live her life when he was gone, to stop existing and actually live, it was still harder than he thought it would be to think about just what that had meant for her. 

"Not even close, but we did spend a lot of time together." Bucky's stomach twisted hearing that but the discomfort was eased by what she said next. "He and I worked a lot of the same shifts, so it was inevitable. We got along well, he was-is kind," she corrected herself and continued. "He laughed easily too and since we were both surgeons, we had a lot in common."

Bucky grit his teeth. _Yeah_ , he thought. _I bet you did._ Melody had talked with him often about her surgeries, but a great deal of what she said was beyond his understanding. Bucky simply lacked the knowledge of how it all worked, though he was happy to listen anyway. Apparently her ex did not have that issue, he understood everything she said and what was more, he probably shared her enthusiasm for it. Jealously burned in the pit of his stomach, mind conjuring up images of a faceless man in blue scrubs, standing across an OR table with Melody, able to practice surgical skills right alongside her. Whether or not that actually happened Bucky had no idea, but he didn't need to ask, the fact was the same-Derrick had been able to give Melody something he couldn't-understanding of her profession and passion for it. 

If Melody was aware of the dark thoughts churning around in his head, she didn't give any sign of it but kept on with her story. "So after a few weeks of working together, he asked me out to dinner and I said yes. We were together for three months after that and then, well it ended."

The jealousy that was pumping through Bucky's system dulled a little hearing that. Whatever Derrick had possessed to capture Melody's interest, it hadn't been enough to keep her. The thought made him feel a bit more cheerful as he recalled their kiss from the night before. He and Melody had been apart for two years, but something about him had kept her interest. 

"Why didn't it work out?" he asked, trying not to sound too interested. He took no delight in what obviously caused Melody pain, but Bucky was only human and he was glad Derrick was out of the picture. 

Melody shrank even more and pressed her forehead against her knees. "I have really serious intimacy issues. Physically and emotionally, but you already knew that." She gave him a sad smile that nearly tore Bucky's heart from his chest. He wanted to erase that smile, but he had no idea how. This wasn't a kind of hurt he could understand. "Derrick was _so_ understanding, but it still hurt him. And one day, he was sick of the pain. He left me and that was the end of us. Well as a couple anyways, we still worked together on cases when we had to, but nothing more than that."

She still wore that sad smile and upon seeing it another question wormed it's way up Bucky's throat. He didn't want to ask it, he feared the answer and still, he had to know. "Did you love him?"

Melody was silent for a moment, but it felt more like several days as Bucky waited, fear and worry like poison in his blood. The answer he should have wanted to hear was yes, that she had loved him. That she had moved on and live better, as he'd asked her to do. But he didn't. He didn't want to hear that answer at all. Bucky was only human and the idea of her loving someone else stung. It wasn't unbearable agony, but it was certainly a pain he would happily go without.

"No," she sighed at last. "I didn't love him. But he did love me, the poor thing."

Bucky released a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding. "Loving you isn't a bad thing Melody. I would know." Loving her was easy, it was the easiest thing Bucky had ever done. He hadn't even noticed it creeping up on him until it was too late.

"I'm bad at loving people," she said softly and Bucky had enough. He came out of his stiff state and slid near the doctor and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"No you're not," he said. "And don't argue with me about it either. You'll never be able to convince me otherwise."

Melody laughed, the sound not quiet sad, but not quiet happy either. "I do love you though," she said. "I never stopped."

She let go of what was in her hand and Bucky saw a small red star glint in the afternoon light. She was wearing the necklace he'd sent her for her birthday. Seeing that made him smile and Bucky shut his eyes a moment, savoring the feeling of her next to him. She'd been talking to him about another man she'd been with and apparently had cared for, but all the petty jealousy he'd felt minutes before was slowly ebbing away.

She hadn't loved the surgeon when they'd been together, but she had loved Bucky when they been together and when they'd been apart. What did it matter if he was in the same career she was? If he was smarter than Bucky and better able to share Melody's passion for medicine? Those things didn't matter, what mattered was what she wanted and clearly, Bucky had been her choice.

"Hey," he said, opening his eyes and glancing at Melody. "If you're not busy, did you want to try and see if we can finish those _Star Wars_ movies?"

Melody perked up hearing that and gave him a long, confused stare. "You haven't seen the rest of them?" 

"Didn't feel right," Bucky admitted, "they were kind of our thing. I didn't want to watch them without you."

A wide smile spread across her lips-a real smile, full of happiness and Bucky's heart felt ten times lighter seeing it. "I think that's a great idea." She made a move to get up, but Bucky shook his head.

"I got it," he said, opening the small cabinet that was underneath his TV stand. He rummaged around a bit and pulled out the box that contained the movies. 

Melody shifted behind him. "You can work a DVD player now?"

"Yes," Bucky said proudly. "I can." He slid the disc inside the player and watched as closed and heard a whirring sound as it came to life.

"Guess old dogs can learn new tricks," she teased as Bucky sat down next to her. At a second after he was settled, Melody adjusted herself again and laid down, letting her head rest in his lap.

"Not going to fall asleep are you?" Bucky asked as the opening credits began to roll.

"Not a chance," she promised. "I just had my coffee remember? I'll be awake, don't worry."

Bucky wasn't so sure he believed that one, but he was willing to take her at her word until the situation proved otherwise. As the large yellow letters began to roll across the screen, their conversation about her ex left Bucky's mind entirely. Her past with him didn't matter, what mattered was the present and in that present, she had chosen him, not her fellow doctor.

But there was one matter, however that wasn't willing to leave Bucky's mind and it was the ring on the table, shining dimly as it caught the light. Try as he might, Bucky knew he'd never be able to get the image of Melody wearing it out of his head. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to either.


	14. Fourteen

Few things in life were truly able to make Melody laugh. And not just any laugh, the sort of laugh that made her ribs ache and eyes water as she was overcome with glee. She had laughed like that exactly four times in her life and now, as she sat upright, watching as James's eyes were glued to the screen as Luke confronted Darth Vader she was certain it was going to be five. Melody had seen these films before with Sharon when she'd been in undergrad back when but the ending had already been spoiled for her. It was impossible to grow up in the twenty-first century and not know who Luke Skywalker's father was. However, James didn't have such claim to things, so Melody watched as she waited for the iconic line to hit the screen and shock him.

And soon enough, James Earl Jones voice broke out in the iconic line: "no, I am your father," Melody was quick to discover she would not be disappointed in his reaction.

James's jaw dropped open, his blue eyes growing wide as he jumped up and shouted: " _What_?" very loudly at the screen and Melody fell back against the couch, a loud, hard laugh bursting out of her chest at his shocked expression.

"Are you fucking serious?" James ranted, on, eyes still glued to the screen as Luke escaped on the ship with Leia and the droids. "That cannot be real, Obi Wan said-are _you kidding me_?" He plopped back onto the couch, breathing hard and brushing his hair back from his face, eyes still wide with disbelief.

Melody wanted to answer him, assure that no, there was no kidding involved with this, but she couldn't do it. She was laughing too hard. She could feel James's glaring at her but still, it didn't matter. She didn't have any control over herself in the moment. Her breath came in short bursts, ribs and stomach muscles beginning to ache as more laughter escaped her.

"Please tell me," James began but his sentence was cut short, not by Melody's uncontrolled giggles but a loud _bang_ as something hard and heavy crashed against the floor. Melody sat upright, the laughter dying inside her, hand flying to the gun that wasn't there. She'd brought it with her, just in case, but it was still packed away in her suitcase. She'd figured, being in a base with Captain America, Hawkeye, the Falcon, the Winter Solider, Sharon and the Black Panther that she'd be pretty well protected.

But everyone had moments where they were wrong and adrenaline poured into Melody's system, hot and fast as lightening. Everything came into sharper focus, the details of the fabric on the couch, the sounds of birds chirping outside, the hard, steady beating of her heart-.

But as her eyes zeroed in on the source of noise, the adrenaline burned out-they weren't in danger. Steve Rogers was in the room, breathing hard and looking around for a threat, the door laying against the floor.

Melody stared at the super solider. "Did you just kick down the door?"

Steve's face turned a bit red but his voice was firm when he answered her. "I heard shouting. I thought something had happened," his eyes flashed to James and then to Melody. The look on his face was clearly suspicion. She'd seen the same look on Agent Colson's face when they'd met two years ago.  _He doesn't trust me,_ she thought, but honestly it was fairly reasonable to do that. He didn't know her, all he had was Sharon's word that she was harmless and given that Sharon had been keeping such a big secret from him for so long, it was reasonable to assume her word no longer carried as much weight for Steve Rogers.

Melody didn't blame him for that either. She had a similar vendetta with Moira. Moira had told her that she was loved. Eventually, the lie had become very clear and she stopped believing anything that came out of the woman's mouth.

"What happened?" Steve asked, blue eyes still scanning the room, his blonde hair a bit askew from knocking down a door. "Buck, you okay?"

James hung his head, shoulders tense as he rubbed his face. "I'm fine, just watching a movie. I got a bit invested."

Melody snorted. "Downplay why don't you?"

James looked up and rolled his eyes at her. The expression would've looked annoyed, had it not been for the little smirk playing on his lips. That was one of her favorite smiles of his. "Have I told you that you're annoying yet?"

Melody raised her eyebrows. "I prefer the word persistent." 

"Comes to the same," he said with another smirk as he laughed. 

"You would know, being on the receiving end enough." Melody had certainly not shied away from pushing Bucky towards forms of therapy back when they'd first met. Her constant asking if he'd written in the journal she'd given him had actually pissed him off. James had thrown over their dinner that night and wound up stabbing his hand on a steak knife. He'd wanted to ignore her desire to inspect the wound-a fight that he had lost. And eventually, he'd begun to write in the journal as well. James called it annoying, Melody called in being persistent and as results had shown, it was quiet a good trait to have when trying to achieve goals.

"I know," he agreed, "it's my great misfortune."

"Oh shut up. I'm not _that_ bad."

"You tried to trap me in a kitchen."

"You were injured."

"I could have just picked you up and moved you," James pointed out and though he was right, Melody merely shrugged.

"But you didn't."

"Um guys?" Steve spoke up again, breaking the soap bubble she and James had inhabited only a moment before. Melody had actually forgotten his presence in the apartment. She'd been too caught up in the memories. "What are you talking about?"

"Melody's almost as stubborn as you," James answered. "I cut open my hand one night, I wanted to just leave it alone, she wanted to look at it and when I tried to walk away she kept blocking me." James's gaze slid over to her and looked her up and down. "Well as best she could anyway, she's a bit small."

"I can still kick your ass." Melody said confidently all the while knowing it was perfectly untrue. James was far stronger than she could ever hope to be and though she had taken some courses in self-defense, he was far better at hand to hand combat than she was too. If it ever came to a physical fight between them, Melody knew she would lose, but she didn't dwell on the thought too much. She knew for certain it would never come to that, as James would never harm her.

James laughed. "I have no doubt about that."

Steve was looking at both of them warily as though he wasn't' really sure what to make of all this. "Well, sorry about the door."

"It's not me you need to apologize to," James reminded him. "It's T'challa."

Steve's grin faded. "Good point." He looked down at the broken door, it's hinges ripped off and bent from the impact. "I guess he can add it to the list of things I owe him for." He grinned to himself, and Melody wondered if it was perhaps an inside joke. 

"Were you just passing by before  you broke down my door?" James asked wryly. "Or are you back here to continue your nagging campaign?"

Steve scowled. "Neither, I was looking for Doctor Frasier."

Melody felt her eyebrows rise up her face at his formal address. When they'd met he'd called her Mel, same as Sharon did. "Well you found me," she said. "What did you need?"

"I just need a word with you, if that's okay."

Something about his voice was rather grave, Melody wasn't sure she liked it. She glanced over at James, who was silent but she could tell by the tense set of his shoulders that he'd noticed it the change  as well. She wasn't going to comment on it however, she had a feeling she'd discover the reason soon enough.

"I'll see you later," she promised James as she carefully made her way around the broken door, eyes watching the floor for splintered bits of wood. She hadn't been wearing shoes when she'd arrived at his little apartment and so had to pay extra care as she left.

"Later," he echoed behind her and she heard Steve mutter another apology about the door. 

Melody followed Steve through the halls of the building. Everything in there was a bit like something out of a science fiction film. Everything was stark white, blinding in the Wakanda sunshine and yet not a speck of dust or dirt could be seen anywhere. Large windows marked most of the walls, showing off an incredible view of the lush, green jungle all around them. The whole effect made the whole place feel incredibly open and pleasant, but Melody had a distinct impression that this place was a great deal like the man who owned it. Unassuming at first glance, but dangerous when provoked.

She had not yet met T'challa yet, but she had seen him on the news both as himself, the prince and then as the Black Panther. Melody wasn't sure if she'd be able to meet him during her time in Wakanda, but she hoped that she would. She did want to and she wanted even more to thank him for what he was doing for James. He had every reason not to, and yet he did. Deeds like that, acts of goodness and compassion almost always went unnoticed.

Derrick had taught her that. She'd noticed a bit before they'd started seeing each other. He always went the extra mile for his patients, went out of his way to do little things like clean the microwave in the staffroom, hold doors for people as they walked and saying "please" and "thank you" without fail when asking or receiving anything, no matter how small it was. All those things were kind, purely good actions and it had been what had attracted Melody to him in the first place. That and his intelligence. 

She had said as much to James when they'd talked, but even as she recalled the conversation they'd had about her ex, she knew she'd held back a few things. Or rather, just one thing. Melody hated herself for her cowardice, but she'd seen the heartbreak on James's face as they talked, he'd tried to hide it, but Melody knew him too well for it to work. She couldn't bear to put more on him, even when they were relatively minor things, sort of anyways. But still, she felt sick holding back like that. James was always someone she could be completely honest with and yet she had hidden something from him.

Melody hadn't' told him that Derrick wanted to get back together. She told herself it didn't matter that much, she knew which of them she wanted. Derrick, good as he was, would never be able to understand her the way James did. No one did. But still, it must have been more important than she'd initially thought, given how she had refused to discuss the issue with James.

"So," Melody asked, pulling herself away from her memories of Derrick and what he'd told her the day before she'd left for Wakanda.  "Are you going to tell me where we are exactly?" But even as she stood on the sleek white landing and looked down through the heavy glass the setting below them, she already knew.

"The lab," Steve said as he stood beside her, arms at his sides, back straight as a steel rod as he looked out onto the sleek stainless steel, monitor filled layout below them. "I'm sure Bucky told  you about it."

"Not really," Melody said truthfully as she examined the space through her vantage point. She couldn't be sure this far away, but the place looked state of the art. Not for her usual brand of sciences, but still, she could recognize state of the art instruments when she saw them. "He did mention it to me in passing, but we didn't discuss the matter very much."

Steve looked at her now, his face tense with impatience. "Excuse me Doctor, I think I misheard you."

"You didn't," Melody assured him, meeting his intense gaze, unflinching as she did so. "James and I did not discuss this place. I'm sure that disappoints you."

"Disappointment is a bit of a stretch from what I'm feeling Doctor." The Avenger said, striking an impressive figure in his khaki shorts and white t-shirt. "But right now, the most of what I'm feeling is confused" A bit of the tension that was winding up the tall man faded out and Melody saw his pale eyebrows draw together as the emotion played out on his strong features. "You were brought here because Sharon thought Bucky would listen to you and you didn't even bring up bringing him back here?"

"I did," she said, "I asked him if he wanted to talk about it and he said no."

"And you just left it at that?" Steve asked, his tone incredulous. 

Melody nodded. "Yes."

"And you really think that's going to get him back here? Get him to try again?" Steve asked, an edge to his voice that Melody knew well. She heard in the voices of concerned loved ones every time she proposed a rather risky surgery for a treatment option. It was a tone of distrust, skepticism in her methods and ideas for how best to tackle the issue.

She didn't like hearing it from family members in hospitals and she didn't like hearing it from Captain America either. He loved James, Melody knew that and she knew that was why he was acting so protective, but it didn't mean she had to like how that manifested itself.

"No," Melody replied, her voice cold even to her own ears. "But, I do think it means he won't kick me out of his apartment every time I bring the subject up and hound him on it."

Steve's eyebrows drew into a sharp V and Melody saw his jaw tense. He opened his mouth to reply, no doubt with a rather biting statement but Melody wasn't going to give him the chance. Well intentioned as he was, Steve was not right about this matter, she was and she was going to make herself heard whether he liked it or not.

"You asked me here for my help Captain," she said, hearing the same crisp, cool tones she used on agitated parents and other loved ones when discussing treatments. "And trust me, I understand why you want James to keep trying, you want him to be free of that brainwashing junk. I can't blame you for that. But he's only human and can only take so much. The process is long, frustrating and obviously hasn't been working. He's clearly burned out. And though you're intentions are good, I'm sure, they're not helping. Rather than listen to your reasons, he just shuts down-that's not a good way to make progress. So yes, I _do_ think my method is more effective than yours because when he and I discuss the lab and I give him my professional opinions on the matter, it will be on _his_ terms, not mine." 

Steve's jaw closed and his gaze softened a bit. When he spoke again, he didn't sound angry or skeptical, he just sounded tired. "I never thought of it like that."

 _Clearly,_ Melody thought, but she didn't say that aloud. He looked miserable enough as it was and she wasn't going to kick him while he was down. As hard as this situation was on James, it probably wasn't much easier on Steve.

"I just...I've seen what happens to him when those words trigger the hardware. He's not Bucky anymore. He was made to do awful things, you have no idea how awful."

 _I do actually,_ she thought, recalling James next to her after his nightmares, shaking and sometimes crying as he recounted the horrible things Hydra had done to him and made him do to others. 

"I want to save him from that," Steve admitted, looking away from her face and staring out into the laboratory. "I want to make sure no one can make him do that again. I want him to have his life back."

"I know," Melody said softly. She wanted that for him too. She had not expressly stated so to James, but she was sure he knew that. She hadn't been lying to Steve, James would know her reasons for wanting him to keep trying when he was ready to hear them. Not a moment a before.

"So, what's your plan then? Ask him every day if he wants to talk about this place?"

"Yep, pretty much."

"And you think it will work?" The Avenger's tone wasn't so skeptical now, just a bit confused. It was  a nice change from earlier. 

Melody shrugged, feeling a smile come to herself. "Well, it did him to start keeping a journal and to tell me about Hydra, so yeah. I think the odds are good."

"How'd you know Bucky keeps journals?"

"Where do you think he learned it from?" Melody asked wryly, watching as Steve smiled back. It was the first time she'd seen him look semi-happy since meeting him.

"You taught him that?"

She nodded. "Yes, though at first he wasn't so receptive to the idea-or any of my ideas to be honest."

"So what'd you do?"

"I kept asking him if he'd done anything I suggested, and eventually, he decided 'what the hell' tried it and found out that I actually knew what I was talking about."

Steve smiled a little bit hearing that. "Maybe I'll try things your way."

Melody titled her head, surprise fluttering through her. "You changed your mind about it a lot faster than James did."

"Well," Steve said, shrugging. "My methods haven't exactly been working have they? Maybe it's time for a new tactic."

Melody smiled and pressed her hand against the window that served as her way to look into the lab. The glass was cool and smooth against her palm. "Am I allowed to go down there?" She asked. "I'd like to get a better look." Though she doubted it, Melody wondered if there were any surgical tools down there, to help her practice while she was away. She'd told the Chief she was taking three weeks off from work due to a family crisis-an excuse he'd happily taken, but even if she was going to be gone that long, Melody wanted to be able to practice her skills. She was great at what she did and she knew that, but Melody knew, she could easily lose that if she got lax and sloppy in her training. 

So many interns and prospective med students and even Melody at one point had thought the learning ended when one became a surgeon. But that wasn't true, the learning never stopped. It couldn't. There was always something knew to learn, something that could be used to help save a life and create a better surgeon than had been before.

"I think it'll be okay," Steve said after a moment, apparently taken aback by the request. "Come with me, I'll bring you down."


	15. Fifteen

Bucky left his apartment not long after Steve knocked down the door. T'challa of course, had been on top of the matter and it was now being repaired. However, until the time passed that it was fixed, Bucky didn't want to be around all the chaos and noise. So, he'd grabbed his journal and a pen and settled himself into the lounge.

At first he'd been quiet relaxed there, surrounded by the many windows and the easy, rhythmic sounds of people passing by, but about an hour after sundown that relaxation went away as he found himself among company again.

Scott Lang was the first to show up. "Hey Bucky," he greeted happily, his hand still bandaged from his accident the day before. "Nice to see you up and around."

Bucky snapped his journal shut. Though Scott was nice, his constant need to talk was a bit grating. "Steve broke down my door."

"You're kidding!" Scott exclaimed, falling down on the cushion beside Bucky without an invitation. "Why'd he do that?"

"He heard shouting and assumed something was wrong."

"Who was yelling?"

"I was watching a movie and was a bit shocked at the ending, he was passing by."

"Which movie?" Scott asked, because of course, ending the conversation there was impossible.

"The second _Star Wars_ film."

"Oh yeah! That's gonna surprise anyone! The whole 'Luke I am your father' bit got me big time when I saw it as kid!" Scott smiled broadly, laughing as he caught up in the memories of his childhood. Technically speaking, he'd misquoted the dialogue, but Bucky didn't feel like correcting him. "I actually questioned my dad if Vader was lying," Scott prattled on, completely unware that his audience of one didn't care what he said. "Cassie, she asked me the same thing too, when she and I started watching the movies together."

The cheerfulness in Scott's voice ebbed away and Bucky looked up at him, seeing that the smile was gone from his thin face. Bucky felt a stab of pity flash through his chest. Since helping Steve and Bucky back when the Accords had been signed, Scott-along with everyone else, had become criminals. And now, as a result he and everyone else involved where criminals. Well, for Bucky that didn't matter too much, it was just another on a long list of crimes he was wanted for. 

For Scott and also Clint, it meant no longer being able to see their children. Bucky didn't have kids, so he couldn't fully  understand the pain that meant but all the same, he felt sorry for them. He'd tried to apologize to both men several times, but each time the words died in his throat. There was nothing to say, no words to ease the burden they'd felt as a result of helping him.

In Bucky's mind, they had done the right thing and if the world was just, they wouldn't have been punished for it. But that only happened in stories, were always, good men were rewarded and wicked were punished. Life wasn't so simple. The lines weren't clear and sometimes, doing everything right still meant failure. Love, powerful as it was, didn't conqueror all, as so many stories claimed. That was a matter Bucky was very well acquainted with.

That thought turned his mind to Melody again. He hadn't been able to ask her how long she was staying and it was certainly something he needed to know. Bucky looked out at the dark, blue-black night sky. He then glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was eight. Melody was probably in her room by now, but she'd still be awake  and maybe they could talk again. Bucky had waited in his room for a while after Steve had shown up, hoping she'd return, but she had not. He wasn't sure why, but he figured it was something important. He couldn't think of any other reason why she would be gone so long.

"Hey, do you know where Melody is?"

"The blonde doctor?" Scott asked, frowning as he tried to place the name.

"That's her."

"She was down in the lab earlier when I was walking by there, but that was two hours ago so she might have left by now."

Bucky cringed inwardly. He didn't want to go anywhere near that place again if he could help it. It was just a place of broken dreams and lost hopes to him. But still, if that was where Melody had been, he did need to go look. Even if she wasn't there, maybe there was someone who knew where she'd went. Bucky tucked the journal and pen into his pocket and stood up. 

"Thanks," he muttered to Scott. "I'll see you around."

"Bye," Scott replied but Bucky was already gone and heading towards the lab.

The straight shot down the white hallways was familiar and it took him almost no time at all to enter his code into the keypad at the door which slid open to reveal the space behind it. Long tables and monitors dotted the space, their glass screens almost invisible from a distance. Stainless steel shined on almost every surface and papers littered various desks as scientists, all wearing the same white lab coat examined them. 

At first Bucky's presence went unnoticed but it didn't last long. T'challa turned around to speak to a passing technician, and as they spoke his brown eyes spotted Bucky and he beamed. "Bucky!" he greeted happily, approaching him. He must have just come back from some sort of meeting because he was dressed formally in a three piece suit. Clapping him on the shoulder, the prince smiled, "Great to see you again."

"Hello Your Highness," Bucky muttered, feeling a bit awkward at the man's casual stance and overly familiar attitude. 

"Please, call me T'challa. I got enough of that 'Your Highness' stuff at the board meeting. Come, walk with me." Bucky tried to say that he wasn't really intending to stay, but T'challa looped his arm across Bucky's shoulders and steered him around the lab before he could get so much as a word out. "It's a bit messy," the prince continued in his low, accented voice, uncaring of Bucky's obvious discomfort. "Being part of a committee like this, they need approval on so many things with this hospital it's a bit of a headache. They could really do with cutting some of the red tape in place, would make things easier to get done, rather than just sitting around and talking about things we want to do."

"Sorry," Bucky interrupted as they walked passed a large, holographic project of a prosthetic arm-more specifically, the arm that had been his before Tony Stark had blown it off him. Flashes of the seventy attempts to fix him flashed across his memory and Bucky shook his head, as though it would rid him of those unpleasant memories.

"T'challa," he interrupted, knowing it was rude and not caring either way. He needed to get out of there and soon. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm actually looking for someone. I heard they were here, Doctor Frasier, have you seen her?"

"Oh," the prince's eyes sparkled. "Sharon's friend yes? She told me the doctor was coming! She's arrived then?"

"Yes," Bucky said, grating his teeth in annoyance. "Do you know where she is?"

"No," T'challa answered with a slight bob of his head. He straightened up then, arms behind his back and addressed another passing technician who was looking at some brain scans. "Pardon me, Doctor Cheol, have you seen a woman down here recently? Her name is," he paused, frowning as he tried to remember.  

"Melody," Bucky supplied. "She goes by Mel. Blonde, about," he raised to demonstrate, "about this tall, green eyes and probably looking for surgical tools."

The tech's eyes widened behind her thick glasses. "Oh Doctor Frasier, yes, she's in the sim. Has been for the last six hours."

"Sim?" Bucky repeated. He'd been in there too, one of their failed attempts was shock therapy and they'd used the simulator to do it. It created a full digital replica of the Hydra base he'd been kept in. The idea had been that the exposure would shock his mind enough to break the brainwashing hardware. That, like everything else had no worked. "What's she doing there?"

T'challa seemed just as interested in that answer as Bucky was. And so, the prince followed Bucky towards the back of the lab where a large portion of it was screened off with large glass panels, or at least that was what they looked like at first glance. The glass was actually a set of very large monitors and when a sim was active the panels turned into whatever the sim was set to and the outside became grey as a result. Bucky made his way towards the entrance, wondering just what Melody was doing. He tapped in his code which made one of the glass walls slide to the left and Bucky stepped inside, letting his eyes take in the sight.

The room was sterile, white-bricked wall with a large clock on the wall. A large light was focused onto a table and the contents of which were covered by a blue sheet and surrounded by large machines. Faceless sim droids surrounded the table as well and Bucky heard a familiar voice say, "I need more light," one of the sims adjusted the large light overhead and Bucky realized why Melody had been gone so long. She'd found a place to practice surgery.

"Melody?" he asked, walking through a sim which flickered bright orange as he moved. "What are you-ew."

The body on the table was fake, but the technology in the sim was incredibly advanced. The blood, fatty tissue and other gore on the false body looked very real to Bucky. 

"It's not real," Melody told him, her voice holding that same icy disconnect she had whenever she was a doctor. "But it's pretty authentic-looking I suppose." She lifted a shiny, bloody instrument and held in it was a red, inflamed organ that looked a bit like a pouch. Melody inspected it a moment, as though admiring the technology which was impossible right now. She didn't have the capacity for admiration right now.

She set the pouch into a steel bowl held out by a sim and then pulled up another tool, this time pitch black sutures were attacked to it. "What did you need?"

"I need to talk to you," Bucky said.

"Alright," she stopped pulling  up on the sutures. She looked around the false OR again and sighed. "Turn off simulation."

"Alright," a female voice answered and with one flicker of light, the OR around them vanished the room was blank again and the lab outside was visible once more.

Melody rolled her shoulders back and Bucky watched as her emotions came back to her. "This place is awesome!" She said, turning her head and beaming at him. "I can't believe Sharon never told me about it!"

"I don't think she's been in the sim before," Bucky said reasonably.

"How could she not be?" Melody gasped, looking around the now blank room, a large smile still on her face. "This is one of the most incredible things I've ever seen! And that's saying something!"

T'challa laughed and Melody jumped. Apparently in her excitement, she hadn't noticed him. "I'm glad you think so Doctor Frasier," he said kindly. "We strive for excellence with our technology." He stepped forward and held his hand out to Melody, "T'challa, King of Wakanda, pleasure to meet you."

Melody took his head, eyes still glowing with happiness. "Very nice to meet you Your Highness."

"T'challa," he corrected, smiling at her. "You are a friend of Steve's after all and he and I are friends as well."

"I'm more friends with Sharon," Melody said with a shrug. "I only just met Steve yesterday, well officially anyways."

"Either way," T'challa said, smiling politely still. "We are on the same side, no need for formalities."

"Very well T'challa," she said, saying his name a bit slowly as she withdrew her hand. "But honestly, this is amazing." She looked around the sim again, eyes burning with delight. "Wish I had one in New York, it'd be great for teaching."

"You are a teacher as well?" T'challa inquired. "Bucky did not mention that."

"Well I'm not an official teacher. I just work in a teaching hospital, training new surgeons and this would just be an incredible tool to have for running trauma drills, and far less messy than usual methods I use." Bucky wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but it must not have been pleasant because Melody wrinkled her nose. 

T'challa's dark eyes gleamed, but he said nothing. His expression as rather stoic and Bucky didn't like that he couldn't read him. T'challa, he already knew from personal experience, was a dangerous man when he had the notion to be and Bucky would have preferred to be able to recognize what he was feeling, just in case.

"It was nice to meet you Doctor Frasier-."

"Call me Mel," she interrupted, "no formalities remember?"

"Very well, Mel," the prince corrected himself. "It was very nice to finally meet you, but you'll have to excuse me, I have other matters I need to attend to."

"Of course, it was nice to meet you as well." The prince then departed without a word and Melody turned to look at Bucky again. 

"You wanted to talk?" she asked and Bucky nodded.

"Yes, I do want to talk, but can we go someplace more private?"

Melody nodded. "Of course, my room isn't too far from this place. Don't have much in the way of food though, is that a problem?"

Bucky wasn't too hungry so he shrugged. "No, but thanks."

She smiled again and the sight made Bucky's chest ache. "Great," she rolled back her shoulders again and looked around the lab. After a moment she frowned. "Um, where's the exit again?" Her face turned faintly pink and Bucky laughed. 

"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand and steering her towards the exit. "Follow me, I know the way."

Melody's eyes flashed and her fingers curled around his hand. "Yeah, I figured you would."


	16. Sixteen

Melody's head was still buzzing as she and James walked back towards her apartment. The simulation machine was one of the most amazing pieces of technology she'd ever seen. And one of the most complicated.  It had took her nearly five and a half hours to figure how to program the situation properly as it demanded so many details to create to simulation. Even Melody, who was fairly good at operating new technology had struggled with it, but the results were worth it.

The simulation had been a nearly exact replica of an appendectomy. Everything inside of it had looked real and though the body didn't take as much effort to cut through as a real one, it was still good practice. Melody's mind wandered absently back towards West Memorial, if they had something like that, something interns and residents could use to practice their surgical skills... They'd have one of the best teaching programs in the country. She knew it. She had this warm, steady feeling that went right through her bones. If they could adapt the technology, specify to surgical procedures only, it could become a very effective teaching tool.

"Melody?" James's voice prompted her back to Earth and her face warmed a bit as she answered.

"Yes?"

"You sort of need to unlock the door," he gestured to the selfsame door as he spoke. "Unless you want me to break it down."

Melody laughed at that. "I don't think that's necessary," She withdrew her key from her pocket and pressed it into the lock and turned it. The tumblers rolled around inside the door and she let herself inside the apartment.

James followed behind her and made himself comfortable on the couch, Melody lingered a moment and shut the door. She stared at the silver handle a moment and then turned the lock. She wasn't sure what James wanted to talk about, but she assumed it was personal and she didn't want someone to just walk in and interrupt him.

Melody made her way over the couch and sunk into the white cushions. "So," she began, "what did you want to talk about?"

James leaned over and laid down, his head resting in Melody's lap. Melody smiled down at him, a fluttering feeling radiating through her body. "Well, I did want to know how long you're staying so I already got that answer." His smile flattered a little. "Three weeks, not quiet what I was hoping for if I'm being honest."

Melody sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. He still had the same haircut since she last saw him. Not short, but not overlong either. 

James smiled at the motion and closed his eyes, apparently content though Melody knew he wasn't Her short stay was bothering him, same way it was bothering her. It was better than nothing, better than being apart, her acting as though their paths had never crossed, but still such a short time frame. A candle in the wind.

"So," she asked, smirking. "What'd you think of the movie?"

James sat upright and crossed his arm over his chest. The gesture looked a bit awkward with only one arm. "I think you've crossed over to the Dark Side for letting me walk into that! You knew the whole time that he was Luke's father and you just sat there and played innocent!"

Melody threw back her head and laughed. "Of course I did! I wasn't going to ruin one of the greatest plot twists in movie history for you!"

James rolled his eyes, but the ropy grin on his face told her that he wasn't the least bit angry. "What's next though? Luke and Leia are long-lost family and have to battle their evil father?"Melody tried to keep the shock off her face but James knew her too well. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. " _Are you kidding me?_ "

"I didn't say anything," Melody defended herself but she knew the damage was done. James could read her like a book. 

"How does that work? How are they related? Oh God and they kissed in the last movie! That's disgusting!" James shuddered as he recalled the scene. "Oh gosh that's going to be an awkward conversation!"

Melody laughed. "How'd you know they were twins?"

"They're twins?"

"Whoops, sorry!"

James rolled his eyes again, but he was still smiling. "I didn't know they were related, I just said that because it seemed about as far-fetched as Vader being Luke's father. How does that even happen anyways? I mean, Obi-Wan said in the first movie that Luke's father had been his friend. Was he lying?"

"There's actually an entire trilogy devoted to that journey," Melody informed him. "It's not as good as the original though, but we can watch it sometime if you want. Maybe we can do a marathon while I'm here." She laughed again and almost instantly, she felt herself being watched. Sure enough, she looked over and saw James's shamelessly gazing at her.

Seeing that he was caught, rather than give her an embarrassed smile, as he sometimes did, he merely shrugged. "I missed hearing your laugh." He turned over a little bit, and Melody felt him brush a lock of hair from her face. "Well, being honest I just really missed you."

"I missed you too," Melody whispered, her breath catching in her throat as his hand curled around her cheek. The gesture was so simple, innocent and yet thoughts that were far from innocent began to form in her mind. A slow heat began to burn through her blood, like smoldering coals. Melody grinned, the gesture fleeting before she turned her head, letting her mouth brush against his palm. As she'd come to expect, his hand was cold, but it no longer bothered her. It was too familiar to be a discomfort. 

She heard his sharp intake of breath and she opened her eyes, heart beating rapidly in her chest and her body trembling with anticipation. 

"Melody," James asked his voice a bit rough.  The same way it always sounded when he was getting riled. "What are we doing?" Even as he asked that, his hand fell away from her face, tracing over her side before wrapping around her waist and pulling her up to him.

Melody hooked her fingertips underneath the tank top he was wearing and slid it upwards, the hard muscles of his abdomen jumping against her touch. She moved the garment farther up and James did nothing to stop her. Tossing it away, she moved to her knees, giving herself enough extra height to press a kiss against his lips.

James's response was instant. His grip on her tightened for a moment, holding her more firmly against him as his eager, soft lips claimed her own. His hand moved upwards, fingers digging into her back as they moved upwards and tangled into her hair, pressing them closer together. The sensation should have been painful, but it wasn't. Melody couldn't feel anything-just the raging fire that had started in her stomach and burned through every bit of tissue in her body.

It devoured her, it made her head spin and her breath short, but these things did not scare her. This lack of control, this desire, so _irrational_ and so unlike that dark place wasn't something she fought against anymore. She didn't need to. Her insecurity remained, but it didn't matter. It was nothing compared to this fiery feeling inside her. They were not equal anymore. She was not equal parts fear and equal parts desire. Desire had consumed everything-fear didn't stand a chance.

Her hands roamed over James's bare chest, his skin soft and warm to the touch. Two years apart had not robbed him of this lean, muscular physique either and she was all too happily able to feel the hard cut of each muscle as she touched him. 

He broke away from her lips, tracing her jawline and then her throat with kisses. Each one was like another burst of flames onto the already raging inferno inside Melody.

 _This is the difference,_ she thought as James guided her off the couch and moved her towards the bed. _This is the difference between existing and living._ Existing was all she'd ever done until James. She'd been content with it. It had been her ideal life. But now, as James undressed her, kissing every part of her that was revealed with each bit of clothing that was stripped away, she wondered how she had ever been okay with a life like that.

Existence was sub-par, devoid of anything that made life truly incredible. The irrational, illogical things like wanting nothing more than to be kissed until she was out of breath, wanting to bare herself wholly to another person, expose every flaw and insecurity and trust that they wouldn't make that person turn away. That warmth of affection, that rush of emotions that equaled love, the sort that made other things, like their pasts not matter at all. 

How Melody had lived without those things she couldn't fathom and she wasn't sure how to say goodbye to them again when the three weeks were up.


	17. Seveteen

In the pale light of a crescent moon, the scars on Melody's back were silver. Bucky ran his hand over the bumpy, puckered tissue and Melody squirmed.

"That tickles," she moaned and Bucky laughed.

"I know," he slid his hand down her back, tracing circles over the scars. Melody sighed as he did that and Bucky bit his lip to stop his grin. He loved the little noises she made when he did things like that. They were so cute.

Melody sighed again as his hand moved towards the center of her back. "Think Steve will break down my door looking for you?"

"He might," Bucky admitted. When it came to him, Steve was incredibly prone to extreme overreaction. 

"I thought so," Melody sat upright, the blankets falling off her body and she swung her long legs out of bed. 

"Where are you going?" Bucky asked, hand falling into the empty space she'd occupied seconds before. Already, the bed too large, too empty without her in it.

Melody rummaged around in nearby nightstand and pulled something from the drawers. "I'm getting dressed," she answered, pulling what might have been a pajama shirt over her head. "I'm sure Steve doesn't want to see me naked anymore than I want him to."

"Does  what I want in this situation matter?" Bucky asked as the mattress shifted when she climbed back into bed. "I sort of liked the view I had earlier. And whatever retort you're thinking stop it right now." Melody had, for the most part, abided by her promise to stop objecting when Bucky told her she was beautiful, but only verbally. He wasn't Wanda Maximofff, but he didn't need to be able to read minds to know what went around in the doctor's head. 

"I wasn't thinking that." Melody protested and Bucky huffed loudly. "I'm serious you know," she insisted. "I wasn't thinking anything like that."

Bucky rolled over onto his side. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good," he smiled. _Looks like you're finally getting that brainwashing out of your head,_ he thought to himself. Finally, after decades of laboring under them, she was finally seeing her father's words for what they were-lies. The choice of words however, brought another topic to Bucky's mind and he pondered it for a moment, mind flashing between images of the lab and the ring that was hidden in his nightstand now. He knew throwing it out would've been the smart thing to do, but he couldn't. That image of it being on Melody's hand, impossible as it was, had stuck into his brain. 

He wanted that image to be real, more than he could remember wanting anything in a very long time. Looking at Melody now, seeing her lay across from him, quiet and content, he wanted that too. And not just on a temporary basis. 

"Melody?" he asked after several moments of silence. 

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to go back the lab?" 

Melody blinked slowly. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't," he admitted, reaching out and grabbing her hand, which was resting by her face on her pillow. Twining his fingers through hers, Bucky continued. "But we don't have time to not talk about it. Tell me what you think."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Melody sighed. "I want do want you to go back."

"Why?"

"It's going to sound really selfish," she warned him and Bucky scoffed.

"I asked didn't I? Please, just tell me.

"I love you," her hand tightened around his and as she said that. "And..." her voice grew thick. "It doesn't matter as long as Hydra's still in your head. They could make you forget me and it won't matter how much I love you or how much you love me. You wouldn't remember you did." A tear slid over her cheek and it was turned silver by the moonlight pouring into the room. "I don't want to look at you and know you don't love me anymore."

Her voice broke as she said that and Bucky drew near her, putting his arm around her and Melody wasted no time curling into his chest. Bucky sighed, heart heavy in his chest as he rested his chin on the top of her head. _She's right,_ he thought, _I wouldn't love her anymore if that crap was activated. And it could happen at anytime-and that' s just a mild event. I could be forced to..._ Bucky couldn't even think the word, but it didn't matter. Hundreds of images blurred in his mind, images from his nightmares. Melody, a red slash in her throat, blood pouring down her front. Foam at her mouth as she choked on poison, a purple bruise around her neck, her eyes bugging out of her head as they started blankly at nothing...

Melody, dead at his hands and with him having no recollection of who she was and what she meant to him. Bucky's arm tightened around her, as though he could protect Melody from that possibility but the truth was that he couldn't. Hydra could turn him back into a mindless killing machine with ten words and take away everything that made him human. Everything that made Bucky who he was.

Bucky kissed the top of Melody's head. "It's going to be alright."

"Are you suddenly physic?"

"No."

"Then you have no way of knowing that," Melody said, and Bucky felt her tremble against him and it wasn't for the same reasons as earlier. "You don't know that."

Bucky said nothing to that, she was right. As long as Hydra was still in his head, he didn't know anything. There were no promises about the future, no assurances, not when his mind could be stolen from him at any moment. "I love you Nightingale," he whispered and Melody laughed weakly against him.

"I know."

"Did you just quote _Star Wars_ at me?" he asked, laughing himself though Bucky wasn't feeling particularly joyful right then. 

"Maybe," she said evasively and he could hear the smile in her words. 

Bucky laughed again and sighed, letting his fingers trace over Melody's back. The shirt she was wearing was silky underneath his hand. He brushed his lips across her forehead and shut his eyes. "Goodnight."

"Night." 

It wasn't ten minutes later, that Melody fell asleep but Bucky had no such luck. His head was too full, stuffed with thoughts about the lab, Melody, Hydra and the ring in his nightstand.

Grunting, Bucky rolled away from Melody and laid on his back staring at the ceiling. _I can't live like this,_ he decided. _I can't live with this crap in my head. It's too dangerous-for me and everyone I love._ He knew that now, after hearing Melody's heartbroken voice tell him she couldn't bear to look at him and know she wasn't loved. He never wanted to have her go through that. And all those nightmares he'd had, of both his missions and the things he simply feared-they couldn't happen again. Bucky couldn't give someone else that sort of power over him. He couldn't lose his ability to make choices about his life. Those were facts he couldn't outrun, but they weren't the only ones either. Seventy times they'd tried to fix him, remove the hardware that stole his choices and his memories and seventy times they'd failed. That cycle was exhausting and not the sort that hit in an instant, it wasn't that kind of exhaustion. It was the kind that built up. Like carrying a backpack with a stone in it, it wasn't particularly comfortable, but it could be managed. But time changed that, more stones were added over time and little by little, the climb became harder. And then, after a certain number of stones were inside the pack, the limit was reached. Bucky had reached his over the course of seventy-failed attempts.

Seventy times he'd had hoped. Seventy times they'd tried. Seventy times they'd failed and he was left the same as before. 

He had to keep going, that was inescapable, but the fact that he was exhausted and worn out was just as real and relevant. Bucky didn't know how to keep making the climb. He didn't know how to deal with that feeble hope inside him, the hope that this attempt would be the one that worked and then deal with the aftermath when it didn't. 

Bucky sighed, clenching the blanket in his hand and gritting his teeth. _How do I keep going?_ he wondered. _I'm not strong enough to do it._ _I have to be, but I'm just not._ He felt like punching something as helplessness and anger combined in his stomach, but Bucky resisted the urge-Melody was asleep and he didn't want to wake her.

He turned his head, watching her sleeping face. Tear tracks stained her face, her blonde hair messy and a few small bruises blooming around her neck. Bucky felt a smile come to his face and a small laugh escape him. He should've been a bit more thoughtful of that one, but he hadn't been able to do that. His desire to just be with her had been too intense for careful thoughts. Thoughts that reminded him that no one knew about them and the sudden appearance of bruises around her neck would be a bit hard to explain.

But if he was being honest with himself, Bucky liked when they were there. Old-fashioned as the idea was, he liked what they said: that she belonged to someone else. Not belonging in the sense of ownership, but that belonging in a sense of love. Her heart belonged to someone already; him and Bucky sometimes, still struggled to make sense of how, despite everything he'd been through, he'd had the one stroke of luck to meet her. 

 _I have to keep going,_ he thought again, rolling over and letting his arm rest across Melody's body. She didn't even stir at his touch, already off into a very deep sleep. Bucky shut is eyes as well, suddenly very tired. Yawning, he looked at Melody again and as he drifted off, still wondering how he was supposed to keep moving through the process to rewire his mind.


	18. Eighteen

Melody and Bucky spent the next day relatively quietly. Though they did talk, she did not bring up the discussion they'd had about the lab and neither did he. Melody wanted to talk about it, wanted to know what was going on in his head, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. 

She'd promised herself that whenever they spoke of the lab, it would not be on her terms, it would be on his. But still, it didn't biting her tongue that much easier-they had so little time left. Only nineteen days and with each hour that passed, it was shorter still. Just over two more weeks and Melody would be gone again, back in New York and pretending like she'd just returned from a relaxing vacation with her best friend, rather than from a secret base where she'd been surrounded by superhero's and a man she secretly loved.

The time was short and Melody didn't have it in her to keep fighting. And so they stayed silent on the topic, instead trading stories about what their lives had been like in the two year gap they'd been apart.

James told her all about his darting around Europe, gathering as much information as he could about himself and writing it all down in journals. The flight to Siberia, trying to stop Zemo and how they had been wrong about his plan. The battle with Tony Stark afterwards and how he'd lost his left arm in the process. 

Melody, in turn told him about how West Memorial had offered her a fellowship in the pediatric surgery after delivering Doctor Richard's baby-she hadn't even needed to fill out the application, but she had turned it down. One specialty had been enough for her. She told him about her residents she was training, specifically Tucker Jones, as he was still showing amazing promise with her specialty.

Hearing that James laughed a bit and Melody titled her head. "What's so funny?"

"Well," he said, taking a bite out of a bright green apple. "I just have a feeling that because of his skill set, you're probably a little hard on him."

Melody shrugged. "I'm hard on every resident I train. Whether they're first years or seventh years, I'm not going to give them as much leeway as I would an intern." James gave her a rather disbelieving look and Melody blushed. "Okay fine, I'm probably a bit harder on Jones than I am on other residents."

"A bit?"

"Okay, a lot, but like I said. He has the most promise with the things I teach, he's proven to me already what he can do, I'm not going to accept less than that. He'll thank me one day."

"But I suppose at the moment," said James, setting down his apple and smiling. Juice was running down his face, but it appeared as though he hadn't noticed. "he's just content with dreaming about you getting shot so you'll stop nagging him, right?"

Melody took a sip of her iced coffee. Normally she wasn't partial to it, but the Wakanda climate, even with air conditioning was so sticky and miserable. That, combined with her long shirts made her uncomfortable and so a hot drink just seemed like more ways to pile on discomfort.

"Probably, I mean I _am_ his boss and that's something we all dream about at least once or twice. I've had my moments too with the Chief."

"The Chief?"

"Chief of Surgery," Melody corrected herself. "He he's in the upper-management for the surgical program at West Memorial. I've certainly dreamed about him getting grossly injured once or twice, mainly whenever he made me consult with Strange." The last name left a bitter taste in her mouth just thinking about that encounter. She'd never meet such an arrogant man in her life.

"Who's Strange?"

"Stephen Strange," Melody explained, running a hand down her face. "A neurosurgeon. he was called in for a consult on a case and I had to work with him. I've met a lot of pricks in my life but that guy was a cactus. Arrogant, egoistical and wouldn't shut up about how John was his teacher once." Truth be the told, the it had been the last thing that had bothered her the most. Melody herself was fairly arrogant and she'd earned the right. Strange was much the same, arrogant, but he had the skill set to back it up. The arrogance she could have dealt with, but his constant yammering about John had rubbed Melody's nerves raw and she was positively beaming with joy when he walked out of the hospital when the case was over with.

James laughed and Melody raised an eyebrow at him. "Just the comment about the cactus," he promised hurriedly, "not the fact that you had to work with him."

Melody took another sip of coffee. "Good answer." She swallowed the cool liquid and felt the caffeine buzz pleasantly in her veins. "It could've been worse though, the case was pretty grisly and Strange, unpleasant as he was, was very talented."

"Was?"

"He got in a car crash a while back," Melody said, feeling cold and it had nothing to do with the iced coffee or the AC in the building. "He broke his hands which effectively ended his career." The idea of loosing her hands scared Melody more than anything, more than death itself. To lose her hands meant she would lose her career, lose everything she'd worked for, lose the thing that let her use her darkness to create something good. She didn't know how she'd handle it, if she were to suffer a fate similar to that of  Stephen Strange.

James stopped smiling. "That's sad. I mean, he doesn't seem like that great of a guy from what you told me about him, but still, if he was a good doctor-."

"Great," Melody corrected, "he was a great doctor." 

"If he was a great doctor then, it seems like the world still lost something. Being a neurosurgeon, he probably helped a lot of people."

Melody reached across the table and grabbed the apple. Over James's half hearted objections she took a bite, the fruit crisp and sour, swallowing she said,"Yeah he did. Neuro is one of the tougher branches to get into since the brain is the organ we know the least about."

"There are more apples in the fridge if you're hungry," Bucky informed her as she reached for the apple again. Though there was a bit of an edge to his voice, he didn't try to steal it back either. Melody knew he wouldn't as much as he pretended her stealing his food annoyed him, she knew it wasn't completely true.

"Yeah," Melody said, taking another bite. "But this one was right in front of me. And what if those other ones are poisoned?"

"Who poisons apples?"

"Old ladies in fairytales."

"Where do you store all this useless information?"

"Great question," she held the apple lazily in one hand. "I've always had a really good memory, so stuff just sticks."

"Where'd you learn about the old ladies in fairytales then?" James asked.

"I read them at school when I was a kid, during lunch usually." Melody had loved the library as a child and spent most of her lunch breaks in elementary school there. She'd been a lonely child, isolated thanks to John and Moira and since she had been unable to find solace from her situation in other people, she found them in stories. Her favorites at the time, had been fairytales because those who were wicked were always stopped by someone kind and courageous. It hadn't taken her long to realize that the real world wasn't always like that. 

"Was _Snow White_ your favorite story?"

"No, _Cinderella_." 

" _Cinderella_? Isn't that one with the midnight curfew and a slipper?"

"That's correct."

"Why that one?" James asked, sitting back down in front of her and sinking his teeth into the new apple. 

 _Because I wished a fairy godmother would show up and use her magic to take me away from my parents._ But she didn't say that, the words would just make both of them sad and so, Melody opted for a happier version of her liking of the tale. "In the version that I read as a kid, it had pictures and she looked a bit like me." 

James smiled. "Cinderella has nothing on you."

Melody blushed. She was about to point out that Cinderella was a fictional character, but was unable to get the words out before she was interrupted. There was a harsh banging on the door and she spun around, half expecting Steve to break down the door again. 

"Bucky!" the frantic voice that was speaking was not Steve Rogers, it was a female, a woman's voice and Melody didn't recognize it at all. James, however did and Melody saw his thick eyebrows draw together in confusion.

"Wanda?" he said, getting up and unlocking the door. A young woman with long brown hair and large, doe-like eyes was on the threshold. Her skin was bone white and her breathing was hard. Something about her face was familiar, but Melody wasn't sure why."Wanda what's wrong?" Her apparent fear had not been lost on James and he tensed up, ready for a fight if that was what was coming.

The young woman-Wanda, ignored James and her large, fearful eyes sought Melody like a heat-seeking missile. "Doctor Frasier, there was a bit of an accident-."

Melody leapt to her feet, feeling adrenaline burn in her blood. She didn't know what happened, but it was enough to frighten Wanda and now, after a few long moments, she remembered where she'd seen her face before. On the news, after an incident in Sokvia-this was Wanada Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch. "Where?" 

Melody moved briskly passed James and Wanda both, and she heard the tell-tale sound of shoes on wood that told her they were following her. "Clint brought him to the lab, I went to find you. It was an accident, we were training. Clint was firing arrows at me, and I was supposed to deflect them, good practice and one went a little haywire when I moved it. I got careless."

"Careless how?" Melody asked, keeping her brisk pace and she saw that younger woman had to jog to keep pace with her.

"Scott was shot with one of Clint's arrows."

"One of the non-explosive ones?" Melody clarified as she took a sharp left down a hallway. As she had already been to the lab, she knew where it was from her.e

"Yes," Wanda nodded, her pale face a bit pink with exertion. "I should've been more careful anyways, I didn't even see Scott come in." 

Melody took another sharp turn and hurried down the hallway.  "It's alright," she told Wanda, touching her shoulder and smiling softly. In her time as a doctor, Melody had seen that expression too many times. The hollow, stunned emotion of gulit. She'd seen it on the faces of parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and strangers. They gutting feeling that left them blaming themselves, though in many situations, there was no blame to be had. It was simply an accident. This was one of those times and Wanda wasn't going to get anywhere blaming herself for it.

"But I-."

"It was an accident," Melody said again, more firmly. "There's nothing you can do now for that, but you can tell me where he was hit."

"His arm," Wanda said instantly. 

"Did anyone try to remove the arrow?"

"I wanted to, but Clint said not to, said it would make things worse."

"He's right," Melody said, thankful that there had been someone there with basic first aid knowledge. Often, it was worse to remove the object than to keep it in as it sometimes helped keep blood loss minimized and if it was removed improperly, created more damage to the tissues involved.

She reached an elevator and pushed the button, foot tapping impatiently as she waited for the shining doors to open. When they did, she let herself in, ignoring Wanda's questions and James's presence beside her. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She let her mind travel back down it's familiar path and soon, she found that space in the farthest region of her mind. The dark, little space where there was nothing. 

She opened her eyes, allowing that space to take over and when she looked over at Wanda again, she saw the same guilt and worry written across her face, but now Melody had no desire to comfort her. The elevator doors dinged open and the lab of the base became visible, among all the clear, glassy monitors and stainless steel objects, one thing stood out above all of them.

The man sitting on a table, smiling good naturedly and his right hand holding a bloodstained towel to his left forearm, where an arrow was lodged inside it. Melody made her way towards him, strides sure and confident and she did not cringe away from the bloody scene before her. It didn't matter. There was nothing about it that was truly horrible, not that she could register anyways.

"Hey Doc," the dark-haired man greeted, "glad you could make it."

***

Melody clipped the last suture and looked up at Scott. "I'll find you in five days to remove this, in that time, please refrain from any excessive movement, don't lift anything with this arm, and no training until I say so. Is that unclear in any way?"

Scott shook his head. "No ma'am." His grinned again, but Melody made a note to herself to tell him that again, it seemed he was still a bit high on morphine.

Clint noticed as well and seemed to find the display amusing, but Wanda did not. She was still pale and her face stricken with guilt. "He's going to be okay, Doctor Frasier?"

"Yes," Melody answered as she yanked off her gloves. "He will be." And with that, she reached back into her mind, flipping the switch that gave her back her feelings. At once, pity, disgust-both at how men seemed to managed to get injured in increasingly stupid ways and at the memory of the bloody arrow sticking out of his arm. 

Wanda smiled for the first time that day. "Thank you."

"Yeah," Scott echoed, giggling. "Thanks."

Melody smiled again, "You're welcome," she got up from her seat, knees cracking as she did so. She looked around the room, realizing something was off. "Where'd James go?"

"Right here," his voice answered her and he walked up behind her, looking a bit pale himself. "Sorry, I couldn't stick around, that was just...gross."

"Speak for yourself," Melody said, eying the bloody arrow head. Yes, it looked gruesome but it was one of the more interesting cases she'd worked during her time as surgeon. "I'm gonna have another go at the sim, I'll see you later?"

James smiled, but he didn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, I'll see you later."

Melody smiled, but even as she made her way towards the back of the lab, she had a feeling that James had been lying to her. An arrow to the arm couldn't have been the most gruesome thing he'd ever seen. That was impossible. But something was bothering him, she knew that even as she began typing information into the simulator-she didn't know what, but she was going to find out, whether he liked it or not.


	19. Nineteen

Three days passed since Scott had somehow been impaled with an arrow. Bucky had never bothered to learn the details on that one. All he knew was that it had been a training accident, which meant it wasn't an outside threat. That was all he really needed to know. Bucky hadn't stuck around to watch Melody patch him up either. Though it would have been entertaining to watch Scott try and have a conversation with her when she was working, Bucky had other, more important things weighing on his mind.

And so, while Melody had been absorbed in her work, he'd sought out one of the specialists in the lab, Doctor Phan what he and his team had come up with for another attempt at removing the brainwashing from his head. 

That had been three days ago and now, Bucky had a choice to make.

Go back and try again or just stay where he was at.

Bucky still wasn't sure what he was going to do. He wasn't as smart as Melody-half of what Doctor Phan told him had gone right over his head. All he had was there word that this one looked promising. But Phan had said that every time before and each time nothing had changed. An obvious choice would be to take a leap of faith, trust the doctors had it right this time and hope, only problem was that Bucky didn't have much hope left in him. 

So, Bucky had one choice left to him: show the plan to Melody and ask her what she thought. Though neuroscience wasn't her foremost area of expertise, Bucky still had a feeling she'd grasp it well enough to make a solid judgement on it. As he stared at the manila folder, pouring over the contents for the hundredth time and still struggling to make heads or tails of it, Bucky made his choice. It was time to ask a professional.

He looked up at the clock on the wall and saw it was nine in the morning and frowned. He hadn't realized so much time had passed and what was more, Melody should've been here already. Sharon had banned her from the kitchen, so any time she needed coffee, she showed up to Bucky's apartment. Though she'd only been in Wakanda five days total, she'd already established a routine and showed up for her morning caffeine around seven-thirty every day. 

She was late.

Bucky frowned and got up from his desk, chair legs making a hair-raising screech against the wooden floors. He looked at the clock again, just to be sure he hadn't read it wrong. He'd slept badly again the night before and sometimes that impacted how he saw things later in the day. But when he looked at the clock face, the time still read nine AM. 

 _Don't panic,_ he thought instantly, but even so, his mouth went dry and his heart picked up speed as he processed that Melody was late and that was strange. Well, not really, he realized, as she often came home late when she was at work. But she was not at work at all right now. She was on vacation. She had no reason to be late to anything.

Bucky made his way out of his apartment, trying to keep his head. There was no reason to worry. Even without work, their could have been a hundred different reasons why Melody had not appeared when she normally did. She could be visiting with someone already, she might have slept in or gone for a walk and lost track of time. There were hundreds of possible explanations and none of them were dangerous. He was just being paranoid. 

These lines of logic didn't do much to calm him, however, when he knocked on Melody's door and got no answer. As he withdrew his hand from the door, he saw it was shaking. _Calm down,_ he told himself sternly, but it was easier said than done. Bucky wasn't Melody, he couldn't just shut off his emotions and think without them. He couldn't do that, when he was himself, not the machine Hydra had created, he had to think around his feelings. Most of the time he was pretty good at it, but a few things in his life made it harder than usual and Melody was one of those things. 

Bucky made his way towards the lounge, Melody didn't frequent it as far as he knew, but it wouldn't hurt to look there anyways. At first when he ducked into the bright, sunny room, he thought his saw Melody.

He smiled, fear draining away but that was short lived as he drew closer. The person sitting on the couch did have blonde hair, but they weren't Melody. Their color was too dark and their hair too long. To Bucky's knowledge, there was only one person here who looked like that. "Sharon?"

"Hey Bucky," the agent greeted him, turning around and smiling. She had a large book in her hand, but Bucky was not able to see the title. "Glad to see you're up and about."

"Have you seen Melody?" 

"She's not with you?"

"No. I haven't seen her all morning. Have you?"

"No. Have you tried her apartment?"

 _No I'm completely stupid,_ Bucky thought but he didn't say that aloud. He  wanted her help and the best way to get it was not by being a smartass. "I did, she didn't answer."

"Have you tried the lab?"

Bucky groaned. "No." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't even think to try there." Melody had made it a point to visit the lab every day since she learned about the sim and had begun using it as a place to practice her surgical skills. 

"Try it then," Sharon said, returning to her book. "She's probably doing a kidney transplant or something."

"She couldn't do that in the sim. Kidney transplants tend to be from live donors and so then you have two sets of teams working. The sim isn't advanced enough to create that." Sharon put down her book and looked over her shoulder at Bucky, one eyebrow raised. "What?" he asked, a bit defensively. "Melody told me about it once." She'd explained that the dominion procedure she had been called about (and opted out of to be with him) had been a series of kidney transplants and he'd gotten the details from there.

"You were listening?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, feeling his face grow warm. "It was sort of interesting."

Sharon shrugged. "You and I have very different ideas about what the word 'interesting' means."

Now it was his turn to shrug. "I'm gonna check the sim, thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome," Sharon mumbled, but she didn't seem to be paying attention anymore. She was getting back into her novel. Bucky didn't really care either way, it wasn't Sharon he wanted to talk to.

Bucky made his way into the lab and sure enough, when he got there, he saw the sim's glass walls were dark grey. When he entered his code to get inside, he did find Melody, but not at all how he thought he would.

He thought she would be standing against a simulated surgical table, a fake body resting on it, her gloved hands holding steel tools and covered in blood. Bucky thought she'd be standing, straight-backed, calm and confident as she worked at the simulation and practiced her skills, but that wasn't what he found at all. 

The simulation was that of an OR but that was about where his expectations were lost. Melody was not standing at the table, calm and confident as she practiced her skills. She was curled up on the floor and fast asleep.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Of course, despite having a comfortable bed not more than a block's worth of walking away, Melody had found an alternative place to rest her head on the floor. Not completely unused to his behavior, (as he had seen her nod off kitchen islands and forest floors) Bucky approached the sleeping doctor and knelt next to her on the floor.

"Melody,Melody, wake up." He shook her shoulder gently and called her name again. After a moment, she sat upright, grunting and blinking slowly.

"James?" she yawned, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he said honestly. "You didn't show up when you normally do for coffee. I was worried." Bucky stood up and extended a hand down to Melody which she took. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking over at the fake body on the table. "I fell asleep."

"I noticed. What were you doing?"

Melody averted her eyes. "Just running a simulation."

Bucky reached for her hand. "Great, you want to try being a little more specific?"

"Just re-examining a surgery that I was part of before I left."

A chill ran over his arm. "Melody," he said, voice cautious. He didn't like the way she said 're-examining'.  He didn't like how fast she'd said that and he didn't like how pale she was either. "You never went back to your apartment last night, did you?" Melody had left him at around eight the previous night, saying she was going to have another run in the sim before bed. Looking at her more closely, Bucky saw she was still wearing the same red blouse and shorts from the day before and that wasn't like her. She never wore the same clothes back to back like that, not on days she was off work.

"No," she admitted, still not looking at him. Her eyes were instead fixed on the operating table. Though it was fake, the sim had done a fairly good job making a replica.

"Why? You shouldn't skip out on sleep like that, this isn't like real life though it looks close. The sim won't die because you went to bed at a decent hour." Bucky laughed at first, but upon seeing the color drain from Melody's face and feeling her hand tighten around his did he realize that nothing was funny right then. "Melody," he said, squeezing her fingers. "What happened?"

"I got a call last night," she said, voice soft and her free hand toyed with a button on her shirt. "About a patient that I'd helped operate on before I left to come here. He was fourteen and stable when I left, but..." Melody blinked and a few tears ran down her face. "He didn't make it. He died yesterday."

Bucky's stomach coiled into knots hearing that. "End simulation."

"Alright." A robotic voice answered him and the OR disappeared, leaving only clear glass panels and some furniture in it's place.

"Tell me you didn't use the sim to recreate that surgery." He said, suddenly feeling light-headed. "Tell me you didn't spend all night here, doing that surgery over and over again." Bucky wanted the answer to be no, to do that to herself, to repeat the circumstances that brought out a kid's death over and over again was not healthy in any way shape or form. Bucky didn't need to be a doctor to know that. 

"I didn't."

Bucky gave her a hard look. "Promise?" 

"I promise." She said, voice still brittle. "They think it was an stroke," Melody hung her head and wrapped her arms around her middle. "A blood clot traveled to his brain and just blew. It doesn't happen often in younger people but it's not unheard of. I _know_ I did everything right when I was operating. I don't need to prove that to myself."

"Then why were you here?"

"Because I was afraid to fall asleep, I was scared I'd keep seeing his body, the way he looked when he came into the ER and how he was afterwards. All swollen and covered in bandages and surrounded by machines. He didn't even look _human_ anymore. I hoped that wouldn't be the case, I really hoped it was just temporary but..." 

"Why didn't you come and find me?"

"I figured you were already sleeping by then. I didn't get the call until at least an hour after I left you."

"So? Melody, you know you can wake me up if you need me. It's okay. I don't mind, hell I actually prefer it."

"I know that," she said and Bucky saw her face turn a bit pink. "I just, I didn't want to talk about it. Not then anyways, I just wanted to be alone." 

Her voice sounded apologetic and Bucky grabbed her hand again. "It's alright, I get that." And truly, he did. He'd had similar things in his life with Hydra, things like that, sometimes were just hard to talk about right out of the gate. He'd preferred to keep things to himself and go it alone. It had taken him months to open up to Melody and tell her about the horrors about his past. Bucky wasn't going to be hurt over her allowing herself some time to grieve privately over the loss of a young patient. 

"Thank you."

"No thanks needed. You hungry?"

"A bit."

Bucky smiled at her, which she did return, albeit weakly. "I'll make you breakfast if you want. From what I understand, Sharon has banned you from using the stove."

"Breakfast sounds great."


	20. Twenty

Knowing Melody as well as he did, few things about her surprised Bucky. However, she still had her moments and as he watched her nearly inhale a plate of eggs and bacon she proved it.

"Sorry," she apologized after she was halfway through her meal. "I don't mean to be a pig."

"It's fine," Bucky said with a shrug. "I'm just glad you're eating real food."

"Coffee is real food."

"You cannot live off coffee."

"Tell that to my years in med school. That what I lived on."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "If that's true then you're a medical miracle."

Melody shoveled another forkful of eggs into her mouth. "Okay fine, I ate other things besides coffee but that was my staple. Me and every other med student though there were a fair number of them who were concerned about me."

"Why is that?"

"Because they thought all the caffeine would stunt my growth. Not that I had much growth to be doing at fourteen though. I was almost done by then."

"Was it hard?" Bucky asked. "Being in college so young I mean."

Melody bit into a piece of bacon. "No, not really. I was too busy to be nervous."

"I suppose med school takes a lot of time."

"It does, but you do pre-med first as the undergraduate. Then med school."

Bucky frowned and tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "How long does all that take then? Just the undergraduate and med school programs together?"

"Eight years."

"Wow," Bucky whistled. "That's a long time, must have been crazy for you. When you got there you were a kid, technically speaking anyways, and when you left you were an adult."

"I never really had much time to think about it, I had internships and residency to think about."

"And how long did all that take?"

"Seven  years and the board exam and a fellowship."

Bucky blinked and quickly did the math in his head. "Wow, so that took fifteen years of schooling."

"Yep. But not all medical degrees are like that, surgery requires longer residencies, but other branches only last three years."

"You had to take the hardest route," he teased and Melody smiled at him. "Couldn't have gone into something a  bit easier like clinic care."

"The proper term is primary care," she corrected. "And no, I couldn't have. Surgery is way too fun." She said those words with a smile, but Bucky knew her reasons for going into surgery weren't as simple as enjoyment. It might have been one factor, but another had been far more impacting on her choice of specialty. 

"Did it ever get tiring? Being a med student and then a numerical resident I mean. I know you're smart, but you were so young and that was a hell of a long road."

"It was," she agreed. "And I was actually the youngest person in every program I was part of. Undergrad, med school and residency. I caught a bit of a rough time for it with some other students, but it was expected. They didn't like being shown up by a kid who was ten years younger than they were." 

She wore a bit of a smug smile as she said that, not that Bucky really blamed her for it. She'd earned the right. "How'd you stick with it? Did you ever wonder if you were doing the right thing for you? Did you ever want to just throw your hands up and quit?" Sixteen years was a long time to work towards only one goal and for all her smarts, for all Melody cared about preserving human life, it didn't mean those fifteen years didn't have their struggles. He wanted to know how she'd done it without quitting, how she'd kept going, even when she was too tired to think straight-maybe it could help him figure out how to keep going too.

Melody took a bit of time before answering as she picked at the last of her food. Her rapid eating pace had slowed a great deal after he'd asked her that question. "It was hard, sometimes, to keep going. I knew what I wanted, I knew that I could do a lot of good if I made it, but...yeah, there were times when I was tired. Times when I looked at other people my age and saw them already settled into careers, with a house and a white picket fence and all that other normal stuff. I did envy them sometimes."

Bucky nodded, sympathetic, he was well acquainted with envy himself. Loathe though he was to admit it, the person he envied most often was Steve. "So what'd you do to get over that?"

"Every day, before I went to class, I wrote the words 'Melody Fraise M.D.' on my forearm. So whenever I was studying, I always saw those words, no matter what I was doing. It helped me, looking at my long-term goal, it reminded me why all the all-night study sessions, caffeine addiction and no social life were worth it. Because when I got to the end, those words wouldn't be a dream anymore, they'd be true."

"What'd you do after med school?"

"My journals, I made a point to record every case where my patients made it. When I got discouraged, I read them over again. Made me remember why I was doing this." She swallowed her last piece of bacon. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Just wondering," Bucky said, which wasn't entirely untrue. He had been curious about how long it had taken her to become a surgeon and after learning how long the process was, he had also wanted to know how she'd stuck with it. She didn't need to know that Bucky had another reason for asking, for wanting to learn how she held onto that goal when she was burned out and bone-tired. Bucky still wasn't sure what he was going to do and he didn't want to get her hopes up and then let her down. Melody had, had enough of that happen to her already and Bucky was not going to add his name to the list. Not if he could help it.

Melody looked sidelong at him. "If you say so. Now it's my turn to play twenty questions-why were you looking for me earlier?"

"I was worried about you." He admitted, face flushing red. "You normally show up for coffee at seven-thirty and I realized you were late."

"I'm late all the time."

"Because of work," Bucky said, getting up and grabbing her empty plate. "But you're not working while you're here. Not like you usually do."

"True," Melody yawned as Bucky set her plate in the dishwasher. As with everything else in the base, the apartments were fairly well updated as well. Bucky was glad for that, he wasn't all that crazy about trying to wash dishes with one hand.

He turned around, ready for whatever else Melody wanted to ask him, but as he did so, he realized more questions weren't coming. Not for a while yet. Melody's head was resting on the table, her eyes drifting shut. She wasn't fully asleep yet, but she was heading in that direction.

"Tables are not places to sleep," Bucky informed her, smiling fondly at her. "Come on," he pulled her chair back away from the table and helped her onto her feet. As she was still mostly awake, he was able to lead her over to his bed and helped her into it.  "Sleep well," he told her even as she muttered some unintelligible reply. "I love you."

Melody didn't give any indication that she heard him and Bucky rolled his eyes again. Her ability to fall asleep as fast as she did should have counted as a superpower. Not wanting to leave his apartment, but not wanting to lay down and risk waking her up, Bucky meandered over to the couch and sat down, pondering what Melody had told him. The things she'd done to keep her focus did seem useful, but Bucky didn't think they'd work for him.

For one thing, there weren't words to really sum up what he wanted. What his eventual end-game was. He had no idea himself, not for certain. Hydra had been such a part of him for so long, it was hard to imagine being free from it, being able to make his own choices and not have them ripped away. What Bucky wanted, he knew was freedom, to have that back again, but he wasn't entirely sure what he could do with it. Even if the brainwashing was fixed, there was still the matter of the world viewing him as a criminal.  And the journaling thing-that wouldn't work either. Bucky wasn't Melody-he'd never saved any lives, not like she had. 

And so, he wasn't entirely sure what to do, what he could use to remind him of what he was fighting for. 

Melody made a small noise in her sleep and Bucky looked over at her, smiling to himself. He'd forgotten she did that. The thought was amusing at first, but it quickly turned cold and his smile fell from his face. He'd forgotten about the little noises she made when she dreamed. Two years apart had made him forget that detail.

 _What else will I forget when she's gone?_ Bucky wondered to himself, slouching forward as though a metal weight was pressing into his spine. _Even if Hydra doesn't make me forget her, I still will over time. I'll forget the little things about her._ The thought left Bucky feeling cold as he watched the steady rise and fall of the doctor's chest. _I don't want to forget those things. I don't want to say goodbye again._

He looked away from Melody's sleeping form and stood up, the weight over him gone as he made his choice. Quickly and quietly, he made his way out the apartment. He needed to go and speak with Doctor Phan about the next attempt to remove Hydra from his brain. 


	21. Twenty-One

Melody knew James had been an assassin once and such times had left him incredibly good at secrecy, quiet operations and the like. He was very good at secrets, but sadly, for him, Melody was too. Such knowledge of how to keep secrets came with another skill set-the ability to spot someone who had something to hide.

That skill was one Melody had and that, combined with how well she knew James told her what he was hiding from her. He was going back to the lab. 

Why he wanted to hide that from her, Melody had several ideas, but she had no plans to confront him about it. Not right now. Whatever his reasons were, they were not anywhere near as important as getting him back inside the lab. Melody feared a confrontation would turn him away from the idea and she couldn't deal with that.

So she said nothing as the days passed. Such matters didn't go over well with Steve Rogers.

"Run that by me again will you?" he asked, voice nearing agitation as he sat across from her in the sim. As per usual, the hour was quiet early which meant James was still asleep (usually) and wouldn't expect her for at least another hour.

"What about that was unclear?" she asked as she grabbed a forceps and clamped it onto a blood vessel of the tumor she was working to remove. The hologram was too light to be real tissue, but it reacted very realistically to her work, which made it good practice anyways.

"He hasn't talked to you about the lab at all."

"That is correct."

"And you haven't brought it up to him?"

"Also correct. I have no idea why you asked me to repeat myself Captain, you seem to have understood it very well."

"I did, I just don't get it. We brought you here to help him, convince him to go back and it's been a week and a half and you've said nothing to him!" The Avenger's voice hit a sharp edge and Melody put down the electrocautery she had been about to place on the tumor's exposed blood vessels. 

"I never said that," she corrected him, keeping her tone level. As this was as simulation of a surgery, Melody didn't need to shut down, but now that Steve was here, she was reconsidering that choice. Good man though he was, Steve Rogers was quiet bull-headed as well and that made him a bit difficult to deal with at times. When it came to James, that bull-headed stubbornness met with emotion and those things combined made him downright irrational.

"Excuse me?"

"You said that I haven't said anything about the lab to James, which is just you putting words into my mouth. I've said nothing like that."

"I just asked you if he's talked to you about the lab-!"

"And I assumed you meant recently," Melody interrupted him and turned away from the operating table. "End simulation." There was no way she'd be able to focus on the surgery now, not without shutting off her emotions and that wasn't something she wanted to do right then. She restricted the use of it to situations when emotions, more specifically her own, put other people at risk. This was not one of those times.

"Very well," the artificial intelligence voice chimed and the OR disappeared and the grey walls turned clear, the lab opening up into full view. 

Melody put her hands on her hips and felt her eyes narrow as she looked at Steve. For once, which surprisingly, he was silent and looking up at her with expectant eyes. "James and I did talk about the lab, about two days after I got here. He asked my opinions, I gave them and that was the end of it."

"What'd you tell him?"

"Confidential, I won't be disclosing that." She wasn't ashamed of loving James and Melody never would be, but even so, she saw no sense in announcing it to the world. Or rather, their small group of mutual acquaintances She doubted such news would be received well by any of them.

"What?"

"Patients are entitled to certain levels of confidentiality regarding their treatment, for that reason, I am not allowed to discuss that with you. If you want to take it up with James, however, that is another matter." She wasn't sure what James would tell Steve, but she'd rather they discussed it versus her and Steve. Those two men needed to talk about the lab and maybe her opinions on it would be a good place to start.

Steve wasn't thinking along those lines however and slammed his hand down onto a nearby table, the white plastic broke apart with a loud bang and leapt to his feet. "Are you serious?"

"I don't have a sense of humor." Melody echoed the words she'd overheard from a previous batch of residents. She didn't remember who said it, but ironically enough, the statement was very amusing to her.

Steve scowled at her and his shoulders tensed up. He neared Melody, almost bearing down on over her, an intimidating move, but she didn't think it was intentional on his part. He couldn't help his height anymore than she could help hers. "I don't get it." He said and his voice was no longer loud, but it sounded just as angry as before.

"Don't get what? Doctor patient confidentiality? The Hippocratic oath?"

"Why Sharon trusts you so much," Steve said and Melody drew back from him, the words like a physical blow. Mentally, she cursed herself for staying in her normal mind, for staying human. "She won't hear a word against you, not even from me. And I don't get it."

"Probably for the same reason you won't hear a word against James," Melody said, regaining her composure. 

"I don't see how you managed to earn that. You don't really seem that trustworthy to me." Steve's eyes were cold as ice and Melody's reply as equally chilling. 

"I saved her life, maybe that had something to do with it."

Steve didn't reply but it didn't escape her that her words didn't phase him. Either he didn't believe her about saving Sharon or he already knew about it. She wasn't sure which was at play, but she did know that the knowledge didn't change how Captain America regarded her.

"You're a regular saint then aren't you?" Steve said finally and Melody fought back the urge to laugh hysterically. She was many, many things, but a saint wasn't one. She was a sinner just like the rest and some of her sins were the blackest kind indeed.

"I value human life," Melody said, "if that makes me a 'saint' in your eyes then that's on you."

"Is that why you agreed to help Bucky two years ago? Because you value human life?"

"Yes." It had been her reason, at first. It had changed as she grew to know him better. Then it became about love. Steve smiled but there was no warmth in it. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Let's just say I don't trust people who don't have a dark side."

Melody felt a smile of her own cross her face. "We all have dark sides Cap, some of us just take a bit longer to show it. You would know, wouldn't you?" She threw the words in casually, but she saw Steve recoil from her, as she had from him moments before. Throwing Stark in his face was cruel and pointless, Melody knew that, but all the same it didn't stop her either. He was hitting a bit too close to home for her liking. He was right to think she had a dark side and she certainly didn't want him, or anyone else to know just how dark it was.

She'd lose everything if that happened.

Steve said nothing then, but backed away from her, face pale and drawn. Melody had struck him in a place that would be hard to heal. Pity stabbed her heart and had he been someone else, someone she loved, she would have apologized right then and there. But for all she respected Steve Rogers, Melody didn't love him and for that reason, she was not able to swallow her pride and apologize. He'd started this, not her.

The door of the sim opened and Rogers walked out. Melody was alone again, but as she watched Steve retreat and vanish from view, she decided that she did not want to be alone anymore. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, a gift from Derrick on Valentine's Day, she hadn't been able to part with it. It was too useful.

It was not quiet seven now, so James wouldn't be expecting her, but even so, she had to see him. The desire to hear his voice, see his face was intense. She should've been afraid to face him after the fight she'd had with his best friend, and part of her was. But that part wasn't stronger than her need to talk with the one person she could be completely unguarded with. And so, Melody made her choice.

She stepped out of the sim herself and made her way through the lab towards the exit. She wasn't sure exactly what she was going to say to James about all this, but her busy thoughts were interrupted as she heard screaming.

Melody spun her head towards the noise, but she wasn't able to process the scene before her. Not before a hand closed around her throat.


	22. Twenty-Two

Melody's ears popped as she was lifted off the group, her lungs screaming for air as she pried at James's hand, but as she had already known, he was much stronger than she was.

Her eyes bored back into his, but the blue eyes she'd come to know so well were empty. Devoid of any emotion or recognition. He might have had the same face, but James wasn't present inside anymore. There was only Hydra.

And so Melody had only one choice left if she wanted to survive. James was gone and so, she needed to be as well. She closed her eyes, blocking out the image of his blank face and shut down, creeping back into the cold, dark place and when she opened her eyes again, though her lungs were burning, her head spinning with need for air and her legs dangling useless underneath her, Melody was calm and that let her think.

She had no way of overpowering him with strength, but if she could just get something into his eyes he'd drop her and she could run. Speed was one place she might beat him, but the only problem was, as she tried to look around, there was nothing near her to throw into his face.

 _Next move,_ she thought as black spots danced across her vison. Aiming for his temple to knock him out was a plan that had a much better-!

Melody was thrown sideways as Steve slammed into Bucky. Her head struck a nearby table and a slice of white-hot pain and all the while, she gulped down air. James struggled against Steve, but Steve was just as strong as he was, and he had two arms to work with.

Melody got to her feet, vision blurred with shadows, but even as she grabbed the desk she'd struck her head on, she found her voice. It was raspy and harsh. "Sedate him."

"Mel!" Sharons' panicked voice reached her through the ringing in her ears. "Oh God Mel! We need a doctor over here!"

Melody saw a few white garbed figures run towards her. How many she couldn't be sure, her vision was still spotty. "They'll need to run a neurological exam," she said, her neck throbbing at the motion of speech. She touched her hand to the back of her head, which was tender and hot to the touch, but as she inspected her fingers, she didn't see any blood. "And an X-ray, just in case, I don't think anything is broken but neck's are tricky."

"Are you serious?" Sharon gasped as the white coats surrounded them.

"Yes," Melody rasped even as she was forced, albeit gently to the ground by one of the doctors. "If I have internal damage my throat could swell up and then I won't be able to breathe."

"Get her a blanket," one of the female doctors barked, her eyes sharp. "She's going into shock!"

 _No,_ Melody thought as she watched James slump to the ground, Steve and three doctors beside him, one with a syringe in his hand. _I'm not going into shock._

She let her gaze turn back to the doctor and waited as the first exam went underway. The neurological one did not worry her, it was the X-ray. Needed as it was, it was going to show she was no stranger to being choked like that. 

***

Melody wished Sharon would stop pacing. The agent was still pale, her eyes darting to Melody often, though whenever she looked at her, Sharon's eyes meandered over to something else. 

 _She feels guilty,_ Melody reasoned. Though she hadn't been informed much about what had happened, she knew the gist of it. They'd tried again, to remove the brainwashing from James's mind and like all previous attempts it had not worked. This time, however, the straps to hold him down in the event of that had been so abused that one had frayed enough for him to break free and of course, in the surprise of that, he'd had an advantage over the techs and doctors present.

Sharon had been present as well and like the others, she'd been knocked around as well. Oddly enough, Melody who'd had no knowledge of the attempt and who had not been present in the room was the one who'd walked away with the most injuries. A bump on the head and bruising around her throat. 

Melody let her gaze wander around the small exam room and then looked at the clock. Doctor Elbert would be back with her scans soon. She didn't want Sharon present when that happened. Due to her own medicinal background, Melody knew what was coming. The questions of any significant others, that there was help out there for her if she wanted it and that they could easily put her in touch with resources if she asked. Melody had given the speech herself several times and she didn't want Sharon to hear it given to her.

She still wanted to tell Sharon the truth, but that desire to come clean and let her in was equal with her fear. Sharon was a woman of the law, how was Melody to know for sure if she wouldn't turn her over to murder? And even if she didn't, who was to say whether or not she'd ever look at Melody the same way again? What if she couldn't bear to look at her, let alone speak with her? As much as Sharon loved her, love wasn't enough to keep them together. Melody already knew that.

 _"I'm busy, can we talk later?"_ Melody shut her eyes against the memory, but it still hurt, like salt into an open wound.

"Sharon?" she asked. 

The agent stopped pacing instantly. "Yes? Are you okay? Do you-?"

"I'm fine, just thirsty, could you get me some water?"

Sharon's shoulders slumped. "Of course," she smiled and left the room, but Melody was not alone when she did. Doctor Elbert entered in that moment. Perfect timing as far as Melody was concerned.

"We have your scans here," Doctor Elbert, began, her brown eyes alight with caution. She'd interpreted her findings exactly as Melody thought she would. "And it seems you have no serious damage inflicted-."

"So I'll just need an ice pack and to rest my voice for a few days," Melody remarked and she winced-her voice was still raspy as though she smoked. "Great."

"Melody-."

"Doctor Frasier."

The woman's smile flickered a little. "Doctor Frasier, while your scans didn't show damage this time, we did see signs of past incidents." She sat down in the chair next to Melody and held out the X-rays. Melody didn't look at them, she already knew what would be there.

"I know what it looks like," she lied, already having rehearsed this story since the moment they'd brought her into be examined. She didn't like the impression it would leave, but _anything_ was better than the truth. The truth would tear apart her life, this would just leave an unfavorable pinon about her and seeing as so many of those already existed, Melody figured one more wouldn't matter. "But it's not what you think."

"Doctor Frasier, if someone is hurting you," the doctor began gently but Melody shook her head.

"It's not like that," she ducked her head then and toyed with a bit of hair, as though embarrassed. "It's...well, I have very...unusual desires when it comes to sex." She blushed then, and that was not false. The fact that she was even saying this lie out loud was humiliating enough. The impression this would leave! 

"And by unusual do you mean, that is to say," the doctor fumbled for the right words.

"That I enjoy being asphyxiated during sex? Yes." Melody's face burned even hotter. "That's exactly right and I assure you, I'm being safe about it. I am a doctor after all."

Doctor Elbert stood up, Melody couldn't be sure, given the rich brown of her skin, but she thought that the doctor was blushing just as badly as she was. "Oh, I see, well um, in that case there's really nothing else for you and I to discuss here. It's just like you said, rest your voice and ice your throat. Bruising will vanish in about two weeks."

"Great," Melody said and she meant it. They'd be healed before she got back to New York. "Thank you." 

Doctor Elbert smiled. "You're welcome, is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Melody shook her head. "No thanks."

In that moment, Sharon came back, a paper cup in her hand. "Good news?"

"All things considered your friend is perfectly healthy."

Sharon smiled for real though exhaustion was carved into her features still. "That's great. Here's your water Mel."

"Thanks," Melody took the cup robotically and brought it to her lips. 

"Do you need anything else?" 

"How's James?"

"Still out cold, I think they might've given him horse tranquillizer." She laughed at the joke and Melody began to, but stopped short, her throat protesting the action. "Sorry," Sharon apologized instantly, "I wasn't thinking."

"It's fine," Melody set aside the water. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Are we still talking about the joke?"

Sharon bit her lip. "Um no. Not really. Are you sure you're okay? I mean what happened..."

"I am fine." Melody said firmly. "It was an accident, now we know to check the restraints for weakness before use, no serious harm was done-therefore, I am fine."

"One of the doctor's said you were going into shock."

"No, they thought I was going to go into shock, but I didn't." Shock wasn't something Melody could do when she was in a state like that. She could experience physical types of shock if she'd been injured a certain way, such as damage to her spinal cord, but mental shock was another matter entirely. It had baffled the team of doctors that had swarmed her after the attack. But Melody couldn't bring herself to come out of it, not yet. Not when people were around. 

The first moment she'd had alone, however, she had let go and cried quietly in the stall, trembling with repressed fear and pain. She'd gotten it out of her system rather quickly as she didn't want Sharon to worry, nor be asked why she cried. That question was too complicated for her to answer.

"Since I'm cleared," Melody said, getting up from the exam table. "I'm going to go and check on James. Make sure he's okay."

"He's asleep."

"I know, but I still want to look at the file." Melody said with a grin and Sharon rolled her eyes.

"Could you just be a patient today?"

"Not a chance." Asleep or not, Melody needed to see James. She needed to see him as he was, himself and not the Winter Solider. She feared she'd go crazy if she didn't. "I'll be five minutes, I promise." 

Sharon huffed and crossed her arms. "That's likely. I'm coming with you."

"Why?" 

"Because I'll complain after the five minutes are up and eventually you'll be annoyed enough to come with me to your apartment and rest like a normal person."

Melody smirked to herself. Normal was not something she could lay claim to. "Don't impede my examination, got it?" If he was awake when she got there, she did want to run a few tests of her own, just in case though she was privately aware that it was less for James's benefit and more for her own.

"Yes Doctor Freezer."


	23. Twenty-Three

When Bucky opened his eyes, the world was blurry and covered in shadows. When he tried to sit up, he felt hard straps hold him down. He was restrained, but the aches in his body told him that he hadn't always been that way.

The attempt had failed and somehow, he'd gotten lose. Great.

"He's coming to," Bucky heard Steve's voice and tried to respond, but he couldn't find words. His mind was still too slow. "Buck can you hear me?" He still couldn't find his voice, so he merely nodded. Steve smiled though he looked very tired. "Great. You feeling okay?"

"I...don't know." His body was sore, but nothing seemed to be broken or otherwise severely damaged. "What happened? What'd I do?" he remembered some vaguely, people screaming, being knocked to the ground and then nothing. The rest would hit him later, he knew that but patience had never really been a strong suit of Bucky's.

"The treatment didn't work and the restrain on your arm snapped. You got out."

"Oh shit."

"Hey," Steve interjected quickly as he sat down next to him, "it's not that bad. No one was seriously hurt. Worst injury was a bump on the head. We're all fine."

Bucky slumped forward as the weight came off his chest. The worst injury he'd given was just a blow to the head. That had been more than what he'd been hoping for. It could have been worse, so much worse. "Who'd I get?"

"Honestly? Just Mel. She was walking past when-."

"What?" Bucky said, his feeling of relief gone.

"Mel was the one who got the worst of it," Steve repeated. "She was in the sim and leaving the lab when you got out. She's okay though. She was even here while you were out, wanted to look over your chart."

Steve's tone was light, happy even. He was smiling, as though amused by the strange behavior of Sharon's friend. But Bucky couldn't feel any joy. He couldn't feel any relief. He couldn't feel anything, save the creeping disgust and guilt that was running rampant through his body. He'd been an idiot. He thought things hadn't been that bad, but he was wrong, he was so wrong. The only way this could have been worse was if she'd been killed.

"What did I do to her?" he asked and he was scared of the answer.

"Bucky-?"

" _What did I do_?"

Steve jerked away at his sudden shout. "She got choked, not even long enough to pass out or cause serious damage. I tackled you, she got dropped and hit her head. That's it. She got checked out by one of the doctors, no concussion, no broken bones, no swelling around her vocal chords-she's fine. You don't need to beat yourself up about this."

Bucky didn't reply. His mind was in overdrive. Images of Melody flashed into his mind.

 _Melody was a little girl, long haired and missing teeth as John held her by her neck against the wall. Her tiny hands clawing at his, desperate to breathe._ _But she was too small, too weak compared to John to free herself, her eyes rolling back into her head, her struggles growing feeble..._

That was only a situation Bucky had constructed in his head, but he knew it had been her reality at some point. She'd woken up from nightmares about being strangled by her father. Her mother had taught her to hide the bruises on her neck.

And now it had happened again, but this time, it wasn't John who'd hurt her. It was him. The knowledge was like a physical blow and shame warmed him from the inside out. She had spent the better part of a decade being abused, being beaten and Bucky had promised himself, promised her no one would ever lay a hand on her again. _I broke my promise. Someone hurt her. I hurt her._

"Bucky?" Steve's voice reached him, but it sounded as though he was hearing him under water. "Bucky?"

"Please go," he said, amazed that he was even able to speak. "I need to be alone."

"Buck-."

"Please." Bucky wasn't arguing with Steve. He wasn't even angry. He had no room to be angry with Steve and his stubbornness. The only person who deserved anger right now was him, the only person he had any strength to be angry with was himself.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked and Bucky saw his expression was no longer stubbornly set as he prepared to fight. He was just concerned.

"Please go," he said again, his voice dull and defeated, even to his own ears. There was a crinkling of paper and Steve got to his feet. Several steps later and the sound of the door sliding open and then closing reached Bucky's ears. He looked up from his lap, stomach twisting with regret and anger. He bowed his head, tears building up in his eyes.

Melody loved him, she trusted him to keep her safe. She trusted that he would never hurt her like John had. And she'd been wrong to do it. Bucky had done to her _exactly_ what John did so many times before. He'd gone back on the one of the only three promises he'd ever made to her. Bucky had promised her that she would never have something like that happen to her again. And it had, and worse still, it was his fault. He'd done it.

Bucky had been the one to drag her from her present and send her right back to the scared little girl she'd been in John's house. Why she'd even bothered to check on him afterwards made no sense to him, she shouldn't have done it. She should have booked the first flight she could to New York and then never looked back.

Bucky blinked, feeling tears burn his face. He reached into his pocket, the small ring inside suddenly ten times heavier. He stared at the small band, but it didn't motivate him now, as it had when he'd first pulled it from his nightstand. Now it just filled him with guilt.

Bucky had taken Melody's advice, trying to keep something near him to remind him what he was working towards when the road seemed long. For her, it had been writing "Melody Frasier, M.D." on her arm. For him, it was a bit different. He wasn't writing anything down on his arm, but he was carrying something to remind him of what he wanted in the future.

Melody.

Despite all this attempts, he'd never been able to get the image of her wearing his mother's ring out of his head. Bucky knew it was improbable, that she was not that woman anymore than he was that sort of man. And yet he couldn't go of how badly he wanted that vision to be real.

He still did but now he knew it would never come to pass. Not even if he did get this junk out of his head.

Bucky had done something unforgivable. There was no fixing that. She might forgive him, he knew that but he'd never be able to forgive himself. And even if she did forgive, Melody would never able to forget. She'd never look at him the same way again.

Bucky had been someone who she felt safe with, safe enough to fall asleep in his arms, but it wouldn't be like that now. Some part of her, because of this would be afraid of him-and nothing would change it. There was nothing he could do to earn that back.

And it ripped his heart from his chest just thinking about it. About what she'd gone through in her past, what he'd done to her now, despite promising her otherwise and now, what would never be, even if Hydra got out of his head.

Bucky closed his hand around the ring, straightened his shoulders and tried to breathe. The action was harder than it should have been.


	24. Twenty-Four

Melody hadn't spoken to James in two days. Well actually she hadn't outright spoken to _anyone_ in two days. The attack hadn't damaged anything severely but it did hurt to speak and so, Melody had communicated mostly through texting while she healed.

Sharon always seemed grim-faced and stern when she did that, but she was the only one. Scott Lang took things a step further, confiscating her cell phone and insisting he could translate for her since he was a master at charades.

As it turned out, Scott's plan hadn't worked, but Melody didn't blame him. Suture kit was hardly a word that came up in everyday conversations. The other rouge Avengers reacted to Melody's temporary state even less, with Agent Barton hardly paying her any mind. Both T'challa and Wanda had expressed their relief that she was relatively unharmed and went about their usual business afterwards.

Steve had gruffly told her the same thing, but she'd seen even less of him since it happened. Melody assumed his concerns were more geared towards James, she didn't blame him. Her own worries were much the same. Melody had tried, both the day of and two days after to talk about things with James, but each time, he had either disappeared someplace or was sleeping.

It didn't take Melody long to realize he was avoiding her and she was sick of it. They needed to talk and they were going to whether James liked it or not and Melody was pretty sure it was the "or not" side of things when James's finally opened his door.

"I was sleeping," he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes.

"Let me in," Melody croaked, wincing at the sound. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," James said which startled Melody. She'd been expecting a fight. "We do." James still wouldn't look at her but he did take a deep breath before speaking. "Go back to New York." And without further word he shut the door in her face.

 _Oh no you don't,_ Melody thought, blood boiling at both his rudeness and what he'd said. _He cannot just say that to me and leave it like that!_

"James!" She banged her fist on the door, wincing in pain as her throat protested the volume of her speech. "Open up!"

He didn't answer and Melody ground her teeth. If that was how he wanted to play things, fine.  
Game on.

"Open the door," she growled, "or I'll shoot the handle and let myself in."

James opened the door, white faced and looking ready to shout. Melody didn't give him the chance to do either. Using her small stature to her advantage, she ducked under his arm and skidded into the apartment.

James turned around, slamming the door and scowling. "You were bluffing weren't you?"

"What gave me away?" Melody asked smugly, crossing her arms. "Now, let's get a few things straight; one slamming the door in people's faces is rude-."

"So is threatening to shoot their door."

Melody ignored that. She wasn't here to discuss herself. "And two, we both know I'm not here to discuss travel plans. We need to talk about what happened in the lab, so start talking."

"There's nothing to say," James said, his back turned to her.

"Bullshit," Melody growled. "You've been avoiding me for two days since then!" She'd had enough, James could lie all he wanted, but Melody knew him too well. This bothered him and they couldn't get away with not talking about it. This was too big.

"Because I have nothing to say."

"You're lying."

"Oh you suddenly have the ability to read minds?"

"No," she crossed her arms. "But I can read you like a book. You have a hell of a lot to say but you don't know how to say it."

"Well since you're the expert on what _I'm_ feeling," James said, words dripping with sarcasm. "What am I feeling Doctor Freezer?"

Melody winced at her nickname. He never called her that. James had only ever done it once and it was when he was very angry. It seemed he was getting their now.

"You're exhausted," she ventured. "You finally decided to try again and this time, it wasn't just failure you're coping with, it's the fact that other people," she refused to single herself out, "got hurt. You're scared it'll happen again-."

"It won't," his voice was hard and Melody raised her eyebrows.

"Oh? And why is that?" Was he going to give up on the lab again? Melody's stomach twisted at the thought. _James, you can't do that. You can't give up._ That was her worst nightmare. It was why she was here, pushing her company on him rather than giving him space. If he gave up, if James quit again, Melody feared he'd never be convinced to go back. That he'd never be free of Hydra.

That was one fear Melody couldn't bury. It was what had scared her most about the incident in the lab. She'd looked at James and he wasn't James anymore. Hydra had stolen him from her and she didn't want them to have that chance ever again.

"You're not going to be around when I got back," James said stiffly. "You're going back to New York."

"Not for another two weeks I'm not."

"Move your flight up and leave."

"No."

"I don't want you here."

Melody stumbled back hearing that. She'd never heard his voice that cold, not in all the time she'd known him. "James..." She said, her raspy voice fragile.

"Go back to New York," he said again, but his voice wasn't as harsh anymore. The change was stark and sudden. "So I can't hurt you again."

Melody stepped forward, heart climbing into her throat. "James," she whispered, placing her hand in his shoulder. "This wasn't you're fault."

He shrugged her off and still was resolutely turned away from her. "I hurt you."

"I'm fine."

"Now who's lying?"

"I'm not lying," Melody reached for him again, needing to touch him, needing him to look at her and see that she was fine. "It's just bruises, it's nothing."

"Nothing?" James shrugged away from her again. "I strangled you."

"I didn't even pass out."

"Stop downplaying this," James said, voice tense.

"There's nothing to downplay, it wasn't your fault."

"I hurt you." Melody saw James tremble, and when he spoke next, his voice broke. "I promised you I'd never hurt you and...I did. I hurt you, just like he did."

Melody was done playing nice. Indignation roared through her and she grabbed James's shoulder and spun him around. He slammed against the wall, eyes wide with shock. Melody was stunned too, she wasn't normally one to do that, but she was too angry to care.

" _Don't. Ever. Say. That. Again!"_ Melody growled, gripping James by the front of his shirt and resisting the urge to shake some sense into him. No one deserved to be hit for any reason but he was being so stupid Melody was starting to reconsider that stance.

This was not the same as John. John had a choice. He'd always had a choice. Two days ago, James hadn't. He didn't even know who she was, this was not the same and he was a moron for even suggesting it was!

"It's the truth-" James tried and Melody growled, sounding more animal than human.

"Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare!"

"Melody-."

"Don't!" she snapped, her fingers like claws into his shirt. Desperation was taking Melody's breath from her, stealing her rational and leaving only raw, painful emotion in its wake. "You're wrong!"

"You have a bruise the shape of my hand around your neck. It's not the first time you've had that injury," James's voice was bitter and his head was bent, but even with his shaggy hair falling into his face Melody could still see the tears there. "And it's my fault this time. I promised that no one would do that to you again and I broke that promise. I-."

Melody crushed her lips to his, hands digging into him in a way that probably hurt, but she didn't care. She was done hearing these idiotic words come out of his mouth. James was _wrong_ and there was nothing else to it.

"Stop it," Melody demanded, panting as she broke away, letting one hand leave his chest and cup his face. "James stop it."

His hand curled around hers, Melody felt more tears wash over her hand. "Go back to New York," he said, voice cracking. James lifted his head and Melody saw him clearly for the first time in days. His eyes were red and had dark circles underneath them, his face, she had already noticed was very scruffy and unkempt but it looked worse than Melody had ever seen it.

"I'm not going anywhere," she kissed him again, tasting salt. "Not yet."

"Go back to New York," James said again, running his thumb over her hand. "Go back so I can't hurt you again. Please."

"It wasn't your fault, you know that."

"I still did it." As if to further that point, James's hand slid across hers, down her arm and up to her throat. Slowly, deliberately let his fingers line up with the dark purple bruises across her neck. "I did this in my nightmares but now...it's real now."

"I die in those dreams," Melody reminded him, pulling his hand away and pressing to her lips. "I'm not dead."

"But what about next time?" James asked, voice soft. "What happens next time?"

"They're doctors," Melody told him, letting go of his hand and brushing hair from his face. The strands were knotted and greasy. James hadn't showered in a while. "They will learn from this bad day and will do better next time. This time a restraint snapped, so next time, they'll check them before starting so this won't happen again."

"You don't know that."

"Actually I do," Melody smiled for the first time  since stepping into the apartment. "Because that's what I do." She leaned into James, wrapping her arms around him. "I learn from the bad days and I do better next time. They will too."

James held her back, his entire body was shaking. Years of work in emergency medicine told her they shouldn't be standing. She led James towards the floor and he didn't resist. He only leaned into her more, shaking and crying.

"James," Melody whispered, stroking his hair. "You love me."

"You know I do."

"Then love me enough to let me make my own choices. I want to stay with you as long as I can. Let me do that."

"What if I hurt you again?" He asked, his voice a petrified whisper.

Melody already had an answer for that one. She didn't like it, but it was the only compromise they had left. "Tell me when you go to the lab and I'll make sure I'm nowhere near it. That'll help reduce the probability of my getting injured like that again."

"How do I know you're not just saying that? There's no way you're okay with that."

"I don't like it," she admitted. Melody wanted to be involved, she wanted to be on the floor and know exactly what was happening. She was a surgeon and that meant she was a bit of a control freak. Melody hated being shut out of things like this. But her need for control was second to a different, more important set of needs. Needs that weren't her own. "But you need to focus on this if it's going to work and if my being there is distracting then I can't be there. I'll stay away if it helps you. I promise."

Melody thought she heard James's laugh. "Thank you." She felt his head shift and then gasped as his lips brushed her neck. "Melody, I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to apologize."

"Yes I do," James sighed. "Will you stay here tonight?"

Melody snuggled into him, feeling a weight lift off her chest. She could breathe freely again. "Of course."


	25. Twenty-Five

Melody ran her hand through James's damp hair. Though his face was still scruffy (he hadn't shaved yet) he had taken a shower and now smelled clean and his hair was no longer knotted and tangled. He looked more at ease than he had been during their argument, but even with his eyes closed and his breathing steady, Melody knew better. The events from the lab where still weighing on his mind.

She let her fingers leave his hair and allowed them to run a lazy path down over his cheek.  Her fingers ran over the sharp edge of his cheekbone and she smiled to herself. Much like his muscles, James did have a very pleasing bone structure as well. _Zygomatic,_ _maxilla, mandible_. She named each bone as her fingers touched them smiling even wider. If they'd known each other when she was in med school, Melody would've enjoyed reviewing her anatomy way more.

 "What are you doing?" James asked, his eyes were still closed, but he was smiling now too.

"Reviewing my anatomy."

He opened one eye and smirked at her. "What?"

"Well I have to keep studying don't I? I sort of need to know my anatomy. But I wish I'd had this option in med school, it's much more...effective." Melody grinned, letting her fingers walk down his jawline slowly. She would've kept going but James's hand gripped hers before she could move.

Now it was her turn to ask questions. "What?"

"I can't."

Melody frowned. "I don't understand."

James twisted her wrist and brushed a kiss across the back of her head. The gesture sent sparks across Melody's skin. _It's not fair that you can do this to me._ Melody thought as her pulse began to race as she caught James's eye. The warmth there, the knowing look, how well he knew her-it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that one look from him made her feel more than she ever thought she was capable of feeling. More human than she thought she was. 

"Be honest," James said giving her a wry smile. Melody's chest hurt seeing it. She'd always found James to be handsome, but he was even more so when he smiled. This one was one of her favorites, that little, small grin that told her he knew everything without her having to say anything. He just knew her that well. It was a sort of intimacy Melody hadn't known before James. "Were you going to start undressing me?"

"It crossed my mind," she admitted, feeling her face warm. "And then you stopped me."

James sighed. "Yeah," he shut his eyes. "I can't do that. Not now."

"I get it," Melody said softly, "it's been a rough few days. You must be tired."

"I am." James didn't say it aloud, but Melody knew by the dark circles under his eyes that he was afraid to sleep. It had been a common fear he'd dealt with two years ago and now, he had new material for his mind to warp into nightmares.

Melody shifted closer to him and laid her head on his chest. Almost instantly, his arm curled around her, the position familiar and comfortable. That close, she could hear the steady pulse of his heart. Melody shut her eyes for a moment, the world going dark leaving only the sound-and she loved it. The sound of James's heartbeat was precious to her, worth more than gold. She'd fallen asleep to it's steady beat more times than she could count and when they'd been apart, loss had plagued Melody late at night when she laid alone in her bed. Even after shifts that sometimes lasted two days, she couldn't sleep. That mattress had become too large after he was gone, the blankets too cold and the room too silent without him. That was when the loss was able to creep in on Melody, that nagging, soft little voice that told her those things would never be fixed because James was never coming back to her.

That wasn't what was keeping him awake, she knew, but it was close enough for her to draw on experiences and help him.  "James?" Melody whispered, resting one hand on his chest to get a little more comfortable.

"Yeah?"

"Any requests?"

"Do you think you can do that? Your throat-."

"Feels fine," Melody insisted. It was still a bit sore, but the two days of rest had healed most of the pain. And even if they hadn't she would have tried anyway, just to assure James that she was fine. That he hadn't done anything to damage or harm her long-term as he feared. Melody hated that he blamed himself for what happened. She hated that he compared it to John. It was nothing like that. What John had done and what had happened in the lab were as alike as night and day. John always knew who she was, always knew exactly what he was doing and showed no remorse for it.James hadn't been like that. He had forgotten her, forgotten everything and hadn't even been aware what he was doing was wrong. The moment he'd realized what happened, the moment he'd gotten his mind back, remorse and guilt had eaten away at him like acid on metal. James had begged her to leave him early, to flee to the other side of the world to be safe from him. How he could even compare the two things was a complete outrage, not to mention completely lacking logic as far as Melody was concerned.

James was quiet for a moment, as though trying to decide if she was lying to spare him the knowledge that she was in pain. "Then just sing," he said at last. "Please." His arm tightened around her, the gesture sent a fluttering warmth across Melody's skin. This wasn't desire, which was an all-consuming inferno. This was contentment. This was no weight on her chest, this was being free of that crushing sensation on her rib cage that made it hard to breathe. The feeling she'd carried around for so long, Melody hadn't even noticed it was there until James lifted it from her and set her free.

" _I can't sleep tonight/wide awake and so confused/everything's in line/but I'm bruised. I need a voice to echo/I need a light to take me home..."_ This was a newer song, one she hadn't sung to James before, but rather had heard on the radio during a request hour. Upon hearing it, she'd bought the song on iTunes and listened to it every day for a month. The reason why, Melody knew would be quiet obvious to James the moment he heard the chorus. " _Can you be my nightingale_?" 

He didn't disappoint. Rather than lay silent as he'd done every time before James opened his eyes and gasped. "'Nightingale'?" he repeated and Melody stopped singing. 

"'Nightingale',' she confirmed, smiling at him. "It's the name of the song. I heard it on the radio one day after work and it made me think of you." And it hadn't been just for the name, it had been for the chorus, as it reminded Melody of all their nights together. Of James's heartbeat and breathing lulling her into sleep. His understanding, empathy and patience as her life story came pouring out of her after she'd destroyed the kitchen, the way it had brought her peace when all she'd wanted to do was run. 

"I'd think so," he whispered, "unless someone else calls you 'nightingale'?"

Melody shook her head a little. No one called her that and even if someone had tried, she never would have let them. That was something only James was allowed to do. If it had come from anyone else, it would have felt wrong. Like wearing a shoe on the wrong foot, not painful at all, but still, undoubtedly  not right.

"No, they don't but that wasn't the only reason."

"No?"

In explanation, Melody began to sing again. It took a few more bars, but then the lyrics came that had really made her think of James. " _Cause baby you're/my sanity/you bring me peace/sing me to sleep_." And truly, that was exactly what he did for her time and again. James didn't interrupt her again and she finished the song, letting the last note fade out. 

For a moment, he said nothing and Melody's mind went into overdrive. James wasn't asleep, he was too tense for that, so what was wrong? He'd been fine a moment before...Had the song reminded him of something in Hydra? No. That couldn't be it. Did he think she was too intense? Did it frighten him, how much he meant to her?

As though he could read the worried thoughts starting to form in her mind, James held her a little tighter. "That's a really pretty song. I don't know who sang it first, but whoever they were, they have nothing on you." His soft lips pressed to the top of her head and another warm flutter traveled through her from the point of contact. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Melody said, closing her eyes as well and savoring the feeling of James holding her. She'd taken it for granted when they'd been together last and she promised not to do it again. To not waste one moment she had in his arms. The clock was still working against them and in a matter of days, a little less than two weeks, she wouldn't have this anymore. Melody would be alone again, in a bed that was too large with blankets that were too cold. Just thinking about that made her bones feel like lead as the smothering weight flashed over her, not to stay, but more as a grim reminder that it was there and waiting to takes it's place the moment the clock ran out.

 _How?_ Melody wondered as James drifted off beside her. _How can I say goodbye to this again?_ She knew that she would have to, there was no way around that but still, Melody knew this time would be different, more painful than the other two times they'd said goodbye. She wasn't sure how she would handle it when it came. 


	26. Twenty-Six

Over the next few days, Bucky's team regrouped in the lab trying to plan their next move and so, all he had to do until they contacted him was wait. When they'd first begun their attempts, the waiting had driven him insane. There were only so many things he could do in the compound and only so much of Steve's constant "they'll get it" pep talks he could put up with before Bucky went insane. With Melody present, however, that waiting wasn't so maddening anymore. While Bucky had six months to get used to the compound and the jungle around it, Melody had no such claim. And so, to pass the time, Bucky became her tour guide. Today, as the weather was nice, they were out in the gardens, a place Bucky knew about, but had never really bothered to visit. Plants weren't his thing. Melody, however, was enthralled by the exotic flowers, trees and shrubs and was beaming at each one of them when they passed them.

"It's so beautiful here," she said for what might have been the eight hundredth time. Bucky didn't really care, Melody looked so happy she could have said the same thing a thousand times and it wouldn't have bothered him. "I don't think I've ever seen this many colors anywhere in New York." Her voice sounded normal now, no longer raspy as it had been initially after the attack. The bruises on her neck, once a violent purple were faded to yellow and nearly gone. 

She brushed her fingers along a large, leafy green plant that looked a bit like a fern but Bucky wasn't entirely sure. "That's because New York is all glass, steel and concrete. You're not likely to see that many colors there. But personally, I liked that about New York, this is nice," he gestured with his hand to the expanse of green around them, "but it's also a bit blinding."

"Speak for yourself," Melody kept a steady pace, walking across the smooth concrete path, excitement bouncing in every step. "This is amazing, I could stay here for hours."

Bucky smiled as they wound their way around a concrete panther. It wasn't directly in their path, but the open maw and curved teeth gave both of them the sense that it was better left alone. This was smaller than another panther statue Bucky had seen from a window in the compound, as that had been the size of a building, but this one too, despite it's much smaller size, seemed to hold the same amount of power inside it as the other.

Bucky pulled at one of the small vines growing around the old, withered stone. Studying the twisted vines, he wondered how long this had been here. Had it been with the last Black Panther? Or the one before him? He had no idea. Bucky knew the mantle was ancient and so were the secrets that came with it. Ancient and powerful. It scared him a bit, but Bucky liked it at as well. He liked the idea that, even after the man in the mask was gone, the ideals he had stood for lived on after him. His legacy was carried out by the next one in line. The idea of those things being able to last, especially when the world was caught up in trouble, was a comforting thought. Bucky had seen enough evil in the world to know that it was never truly gone and that the world could always use another hero.

"Oh my!" Melody's excited cry brought him away from his thoughts and he pulled his gaze from the statue of the panther. Bucky looked up and saw she had paused by a small tree which was covered in vibrant orange flowers. "Aren't they beautiful?"

 _Glad to see you're varying your branching out a little,_ Bucky thought, noticing that while she had uttered the word 'beautiful' once again, she had at least changed the other words. "They're nice," he muttered as Melody drew one down towards her to smell it. Bucky wasn't crazy about flowers, but he liked the smile these brought to her face.

"Here," Bucky reached up above her to one of the flowers and snapped the stem off. Melody turned to regard him, a curious expression on her face. Without saying anything, Bucky tucked the flower into her hair. "Perfect, now you look like a real tourist."

Melody giggled, gingerly touching the flower. "My goal while on this vacation."

"You have very low standards for vacations." Bucky commented. For most people, vacation did not involve visiting a secret base owned by royalty to spend their days with internationally wanted criminals. Melody, however was not most people. "But I guess this is probably the only one you've actually been on."

"No."

"No?" Bucky was unable to keep the bemused grin off his face. "You mean you've actually, willingly taken a vacation before this?" He wondered what had driven her to that. Melody loved her job even more than she loved coffee which was saying something. Every day she'd gone to work, she'd been half-running out the door, even after they'd become...well whatever the hell they were. The idea of her willing taking time away from something that made her so happy was hard to imagine.

"Well sort of," Melody blushed. "When the Chief suspended me two years ago, that was sort of like a vacation."

"You were suspended," Bucky said laughing, "vacations are voluntary. That's what makes them vacations."

"I still had a nice time," she defended herself, "we went camping remember? Out in the clearing?"

"I do remember. I surprised you and hid your shoes so I could set things up." He was still ridiculously pleased that his juvenile distraction had worked as well as it had. Melody was smart and that made it hard to fool her. But he had.

Melody grinned at him. The smile was disarming and sent a familiar flash of warmth through Bucky. He didn't think that would ever go away, no matter how many times he saw her smile. "We tried to light a fire and failed miserably. I gave up and snuggled under blankets in the truck instead."

"I remember." They'd both given up and stayed huddled together in the tailgate for warmth instead. He'd told her about the trigger words, Bucky had made her promise, if she ever heard them, not to waste time, not to try and save him but to run like hell and never turn back. Bucky wasn't sure if she remembered that promise either. "Do you remember what I told you about then?"

Melody's grin faded. "How could I forget?" Her voice was suddenly much softer. "You finally trusted me."

"Yeah," Bucky said though it wasn't entirely true. He'd trusted her long before that. But it was then that it had dawned on him that out of everything that had happened to him, there was only one thing Melody truly needed to know for her own sake. 

"I made a promise that day," Melody continued right along the path Bucky hoped she would. "All that really made for one unforgettable day. Though the next day was pretty nice as well." Another smile came to her face, this one a bit mischievous and Bucky felt the expression mirror on his own face. They'd made love the next morning when a thunder storm had broken out and left them scrambling to collect their wet, muddy clothing from the ground and get inside the cab of the truck.

That wasn't a day Bucky had easily forgotten. It was one of the more hilarious ones he had with Melody. Already, he could hear their combined laughter in his head, mixing with the roar or thunder and constant, heavy patter of rain. From the warm glint in her green eyes, which now seemed to reflect the vibrancy of the plants around them, Melody was remembering the exact same thing. 

Her gaze flickered to him. "You're staring at me."

Bucky didn't look away or blush. "You're beautiful," he said simply, reaching out and brushing a bit of stray hair from her face. He was careful not to jostle the flower, as he didn't want it to fall.  He let his fingers remain on her face just a little too long, the gesture so simple and yet it made Bucky's chest hurt. Moments like these he'd probably missed the most when he'd left. Little things, little moments that were as close to perfect as anything could be. 

However, their little moment of near perfection was shattered when Bucky heard the sound of sneakers beating on pavement and he let his arm drop from Melody to turn around and see Sharon hurrying up the path. _Did she see us?_   Bucky wondered, but as the agent caught up to them, her long hair held aloft in a sleek ponytail, he did not get his answer.

"Hey Mel," she said, sounding rather out of breath. "Tchalla wants to see you inside for a bit, said it was urgent."

"Oh," Melody frowned, "alright." And with no further question, she took off down the concrete path and Bucky moved to follow her, but Sharon grabbed his arm and gave him a pointed, cold look that stopped him short. In quick, hushed tones, he found out exactly why the agent was wearing that expression.

"No, no, no and _no_. I saw that and the answer is no. You stay the hell away from Melody." She let go his arm and Bucky felt a bit of throbbing. He wondered if he'd have a bruise later. 

"What you talking about?" Bucky lied. How could she have known about them? Had she simply guessed and just wanted to confront him to see how he'd react? See if he'd give himself away? It was an interrogation technique, he knew, pretending to know more than you did.

"'You're beautiful'," Sharon echoed, face turning pink and quickly moving towards red. "The touching-it's not hard to see that you were flirting and you're never going to do that again."

"It's called giving someone a compliment," Bucky said, rolling his eyes. "And given her self-esteem, don't you think it's a good thing? She didn't even fight me this time. Maybe she's getting better with it." She didn't argue with him because Bucky had made her promise she'd never try and convince him she was ugly again, but Sharon didn't know that.

"Oh please," Sharon spat, shoving her hand into his chest and Bucky taken by surprise actually stumbled back a little. "You were flirting and now, honestly, I feel like a moron for missing it before. You're in love with her." She said the last words as though they were bitter and a scowl twisted her face.

"Am not," Bucky said, but the objection came too fast for it to sound like the truth. It wasn't the truth. It was the one thing he couldn't lie about. Not even to himself though he had tried so hard to do just that.

Sharon regarded him coldly. "I won't fault you for having good taste in women," she said and her breath was low and heavy, as though she had just walked out of a boxing match. "But you _will_ stay away from her."

"She seeks me out," Bucky shot back, "she spends time with me of her own accord. That's not something I can control." 

"No, but you can stop flirting," Sharon ticked them off on her fingers, "stop touching, stop giving her flowers and all that other crap."

"How'd you know I gave her that flower?" How much had she seen? How much had she heard?

"Mel doesn't pick flowers, ever." 

Bucky rolled his eyes. "How do you know?"

"I've known her for fifteen years and she's my best friend. I know things about her. And one of those things happens to be all the shit she' s had to go through over the course of her life. She's in a good place right now and you are _not_ going to fuck that up for her by making her feel guilty for hurting you."

 _You've known her longer,_ Bucky thought, glaring venomously at the agent. _But you do not know Melody better than I do._ The violent urge to throw that truth in Sharon's beet red face roared through Bucky like a tidal wave, but he held it back, hard as that was. More powerful than his anger was his love for Melody and he wouldn't betray her trust. He couldn't, no matter how angry he was. 

"Because she will, you know." Sharon continued in the same, agitated voice and her breathing was still heavy. "If you come out and say what  you feel, she'll reject you and she'll feel bad for hurting you."

"And you must know so much about what goes on in her head and how she reacts to everything. Damn, with those abilities maybe you should suit up and join the Avengers!" Bucky heard sarcasm drip off every word he said. "Melody is a lot stronger than you give her credit for."

"No," Sharon disagreed sharply. "She's not. She's a hell of a tough woman for living through what she did and coming out on the other side, but she's got her weaknesses same as all of us. She needs _stability_ , she needs someone she can _rely_ on, someone who can be there for her and someone she can trust and frankly, you are _not_ that man. You never will be."

Bucky bristled and his reply came out through gritted teeth. "She can trust me," _she already does. I'm the only person she fully trusts._  

"You strangled her a week ago," Sharon growled and Bucky gasped, as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. It felt like it had. "She still has the bruises on her neck, or did you and that shitty memory _already_ forget that?" He didn't reply, he couldn't. Bucky could never forget that. He would never be able to get the memory out of his head, not even if he lived another seventy years. "You are not someone she can trust, you're too unstable and even if you get rid of that issue, a few others come into play, don't they? You're a criminal, you can't exactly pick her up at work can you? Or take care of her when she's sick? You're not reliable either. You cannot be there for her."

"I'm better at that then you are," Bucky growled, needing to say something in his defense. Needing to hurt Sharon back. 

"Oh really?" Sharon asked, crossing her arms. "And how'd you work that one out Barnes?"

"When Melody tells me she needs me," Bucky spat, mind filling with the image of Melody clinging to him, crying as she told him that once again, she wasn't enough for someone to chose her.  "I don't tell her I'm too busy, I _make_ time for her. That's more than I can say for you."

Sharon's smug expression flickered a little. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ask Melody." Bucky spat, feeling his blood boil. 

Sharon's red face paled a little. "Either way, you stay away from her. There's no sense in making her feel bad over something this stupid."

Melody's voice echoed back in Bucky's memory. " _As someone who went without it, love, real love is everything._ " And this, Melody and him was real love, crazy as that was. Sharon had no idea what she was talking about. "You really sound so confident," Bucky snarled. "Have you ever thought-." He began, ready to ask if Sharon ever once had thought to actually let Melody make her own mistakes? Make her own choices rather than just blindly assume that she was right and knew better? But he didn't get the chance. 

"You're not good enough for her," said Sharon flatly, interrupting him. "And you never will be. She's going to go back to New York and she's going to move on with her life-without you."

That knowledge tore the fight out of Bucky. Melody only had a week and a half left here before she was due to return to New York. A week and a half before they had to say goodbye again. The brutal reality was like a fist around his heart.

Sharon's expression softened a little. "You're not a bad man, but she's been through enough. Please, love her enough not to cause her more pain." And with a heavy sigh, the angry red coloring gone from her face, Sharon Carter turned on her heel and walked quickly down the concrete path, leaving Bucky alone with the plants and his own aching heart.


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to take a moment to say thanks, I logged in today and saw, since posting the last chapter, I got some comments on that chapter, which hasn't happened yet since I joined Archive. I thought that was really cool, to see the response from readers! So thank you! :)

Melody wasn't in the compound when Bucky made his way back from the gardens. Blood was still pounding in his head after his confrontation with Sharon. Her words replayed over in his mind like a broken record, but he was doing his best to disregard them.

Sharon had known Melody far longer than Bucky had, but she didn't know her better. He did. He knew everything about her. Every secret she kept, every fear that kept her awake at night, every scar she hid-those were things Sharon didn't know. Those were things she only guessed at and her conclusions were wrong too. Bucky already knew that Sharon still held fast to her self-harming theory, despite Melody informing her otherwise. Sharon didn't want to trust her friend. She was too much of a coward to do so. She preferred Melody the way Sharon saw her, intelligent, but emotionally weak. Someone in need of a protector because her own strength wasn't enough.

Bucky scoffed aloud in the empty studio and flopped onto the couch. Sharon was clueless! She had no idea how strong Melody was. How much she had gone through, how much she'd done to stay alive, how much she could still take because she was a survivor. That was as deeply rooted in Melody as her respect for life. Melody wasn't weak, she didn't need protection because she could protect herself. 

 _Who in the hell does she think she is to just assume Melody's so damn fragile?_   Bucky thought, nearly seeing red. _The woman earned the name Doctor Freezer for a reason! Someone's who is weak does not get that type of reputation!_ _And I'm not there for her? Please!_

All too well, Bucky remembered Melody's words her first night in the compound, saying she'd tried to talk to Sharon, tell her the truth about her past and had been shut down. For someone who was so worried about Melody, it seemed Sharon didn't have any problems with not being there for her, even when her need was great.

Bucky wasn't like that. When Melody needed him to chose her, he had done that. He'd left his safe haven in New York and gone out into the world, knowing the chances of him being caught and killed were higher than ever if he left. But he still did it. Bucky chose her. He chose Melody's safety over his and it was worth it. It was worth running across countries, worth getting framed by Zemo, worth even breaking up the Avengers and it was because she was safe from it. Melody was safe and that was enough for him. And yet, Sharon who was supposedly her best friend couldn't take fifteen minutes off work to have a phone conversation?

The hypocrisy of it made Bucky want to hit something. The only thing that stopped him was that none of the furniture in here actually belonged to him. T'challa had been a very forgiving host all things considered and Bucky didn't want to throw that in his face by breaking his stuff.

So, he merely sat on the couch, fuming and shaking. _Wonder what T'challa wanted with Melody anyways?  Maybe he wanted to show her more of the sim, take the chance and flirt a bit with her. I'm sure Sharon wouldn't object to that._

Venomous, jealous thoughts swirled around in Bucky's head for a moment regarding the Wakanda ruler but he shut them down just as quickly. T'challa was a good man and it wasn't him Bucky was angry with. He had no right, even in his thoughts to take out that rage on him. And what was more, it was pointless to be so petty. Even if he did try and flirt with Melody, he wouldn't get anywhere. He had no reason to be jealous. And so Bucky let those thoughts go, though his trembling rage with Sharon remained.

 _I'm going to tell Melody about what Sharon said,_ Bucky decided, slouching against the couch. _She'd want to know._  

And so, Bucky resolved to simply wait until Melody sought him out again. He didn't want to step outside his apartment right now-mainly because he was not eager to see Sharon Carter again.

  
***

Hours later however, Bucky began to think he and Melody weren't going to speak much about Sharon at all. She normally showed up when evening came around to grab dinner (as she apparently took the ban from stove usage seriously) and so the job fell to Bucky to feed her. Not that he minded. Though he wasn't overly fond of cooking, he liked being able to do something to take care of her.

She was late now and that wasn't normal, not when she had literally nothing else on her plate. So, that was enough to prompt Bucky to leave his apartment and seek out an answer. He made his way into the larger lounge, where Steve, T'challa and Sam were talking.

"Hey," Bucky said, knocking on the door frame to announce his presence. Sam and Steve weren't that jumpy when it came to surprises, but T'challa, he'd found was and Bucky had enough experience to know that he really didn't want to be attacked by the man again. Once was enough. "You guys know where Melody is?"

He made his way around the couch, catching Steve's eyes. His friend looked tired, but a little confused as well. It was T'challa who answered him. "I had taken her out to the city for a bit, to stage some photos. Her cover story was that she came here on a vacation, figured she'd want some evidence to back up her story."

Bucky took a seat next to Steve, nodding at the young king. That was a smart measure and he felt foolish for failing to even suggest it. He'd been too caught up in being with her again. "So, she's exploring Wakanda for the night?"

"No," T'challa replied and his voice turned grave. "There was a car crash not far from where we all were, Doctor Frasier ran towards the scene after the initial crash. To my knowledge, she's been at South Central Hospital since then and assisting the staff there however she can. It was  tourist bus that crashed so there are many victims in need of care."

Bucky winced, able to imagine the carnage far more vividly than he cared to. "How long as she been gone?"

This time it was Steve who answered. "Six hours, maybe seven so she'll be back soon." Bucky scoffed and this did not go unnoticed. "What?" Steve asked, looking over at him.

"Melody will not be back after eight hours," he said, "not a chance. Not with this much carnage. They're going to need all the hands they can get. At the least, she'll have been gone twelve hours before she comes back, tomorrow for sure, she'll get sent home because she'll be dead on her feet."

Steve said nothing but Bucky felt both Sam and T'challa gaze curiously at him. T'challa, for his parts said nothing, but Sam was not so quiet. "You sound very confident about that estimate."

"It's not the first I've seen her work a big disaster," Bucky said with a shrug. He remembered the train derailment very well. Or rather the fact that they'd almost had sex before her work called and brought her back to the hospital. She hadn't returned until early the next morning from that one.

"Oh yeah," Sam recalled. "The train that derailed. You were living with her then?"

Bucky nodded. "Yep."

"Wait a second," Sam sat up a bit straighter. "Were you there when I came to the house with Fury and-?"

"I wasn't in the house," Bucky admitted, interrupting him. He didn't want to talk about that day, it had been one of the most terrifying of his life and that was saying something. "But yes."

Sam's eyes widened and he fell back against his chair, jaw dropping as he did so. "Son of a bitch. And Melody said she hadn't seen you, even offered to take a lie detector test!" Sam grinned widely and shook his head. "You know, if she hadn't wanted to be a doctor so badly she could've been a great actress. I would never have guessed she was hiding something."

"She wasn't lying," Bucky pointed out. Melody had told him everything after Sam and Fury were gone. They'd asked if she had seen him in her ER. "You asked if she saw me in her ER and she hadn't. It wasn't a lie so she would have passed the test."

Sam shook his head again, apparently in disbelief. "I can't believe she was so calm. But I guess she isn't called  'Doctor Freezer' for nothing." 

This bit of information seemed to surprise both Steve and T'challa. "That's actually real?" Steve asked, eyebrows rising up his forehead.

"Yeah," Sam said, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been in the hospital after that thing in Boston. An intern was  assigned to draw some blood from me and apparently he wasn't too happy with Mel, kept muttering about her and called her that. Well, I didn't know who he was talking about at first, so I asked and he told me. Apparently she's got a bit of a reputation at West Memorial."

Steve frowned a bit, but said nothing more. He didn't have to speak, but Bucky knew by the stern line that his mouth had become and the way he was fiddling with his hands that something was on his mind. Steve could never be still, not when his mind was restless.

"Who calls her by that name?" asked T'challa once Sam had finished his story. "It seems disrespectful."

"Her students, interns and residents at the hospital she works at," Sam explained. "And I thought so too, but apparently she doesn't think so. I asked her about it once."

"And what does she think about that then?" 

"She likes it," Sam said, "apparently it instills fear into her students." He shrugged. "I'm not sure how that's helpful, but some people prefer to be feared rather than loved."

Bucky saw Steve's worrying hands stop for a solid second. But he blinked and Steve resumed his fidgeting. _What's going on in your head?_   He wondered, looking covertly at Steve for a moment before letting his eyes fall to the clock on the wall.

It was six now and according to T'challa and Melody had gone into the compound at around noon earlier and so had been gone for about six hours at least, maybe six and a half. Either way, Bucky knew he wouldn't be seeing her, not for awhile at least. What he wanted to tell her about Sharon would have to wait, but that didn't bother him. Bucky had a feeling she was needed far more at the South Central Hospital than she was needed by him right now. He could wait. He _would_ wait. It was easy, simply because Bucky knew, at the end of all of it, Melody would come back to him. She always did. 


	28. Twenty-Eight

Wrong as it was, the carnage of the bus crash was like an oasis for Melody. Her two and a half weeks in Wakanda, while incredible had also been lacking. She had missed the hospital, missed the feeling of a real scalpel in her hand, missed the chaos of the ER and the way it tested her intelligence and skills as a doctor. Leaping down from the ambulance rig with her patient whom she'd had to interest an emergency trach into him with an emptied ball-point pen. The quick and dirty trauma had been a relief to her. It had marked the return of a piece of herself, the piece that had been missing since arriving in the country. The piece of her that used her darkness to achieve good, the piece of her that was a doctor.

Now, even twelve hours after the fact, her limbs aching with tiredness, Melody felt happy. Whole. Sure, the panic, chaos and intensity of the day had kept this feeling at bay on her trip back to the compound, but now that the initial tidal wave had passed, she felt happy. There had been many folks injured in the crash and some had been critical indeed and yet, miraculously no one was had been declared dead.

That could change she knew, but for now, to her knowledge it had not. The crash that could've been a catastrophe was not yet one. And part of that was due to Melody and her abilities as a surgeon. The ability to go back to that, her have her skills both learned from her residency and from her life become useful and helpful again made her feel complete. The complete, whole version of herself with every piece in place.

Melody smiled tiredly to herself, making her way through the dark building, not wanting to wake anyone up. It was midnight now, possibly afterwards and she didn't want to disturb anyone. Or rather, she didn't want to disturb anyone just yet. 

Selfish as it was, she was going to go and see James. She knew he was probably asleep by now, knew he needed his rest but it still wasn't enough to stop her. Melody needed to see him. Not because she'd had a horrible day and had seen Death come for too many people too soon. No, that wasn't it at all. She just wanted to see him lay next to him and fall asleep. She wanted to go home after putting in a good day's work.

Melody unlocked the door to James's apartment. Though she didn't have a key of her own, he did have an extra one hidden in the potted plant that was in the hallway in case he ever lost his. James had told her about it not long after she'd arrived, in case she ever needed to get into the apartment without him.

She expected, as she turned the door for the studio to be dark and quiet. She was only half right. The room was quiet, but it was not dark. James was sitting up at the table and perked up at the sound of her arrival. Melody winced as she caught sight of his face. Though she had been performing a repair on a throat and later helping deal with an influx of trauma to an ER for twelve hours total, he looked more exhausted than she was.

"What are you still doing up?" Melody whispered, kicking off her boots and hurrying to the table to sit by James. "Did you have a nightmare?" She laced her fingers through his almost without thought. James's nightmares had been worse since the lab last week and now, because of the crash, he'd been left to deal with it alone...

"No," James yawned. "Not a nightmare. I've just been waiting for you."

"Me? What the hell? James's it's," she turned her head to look at the clock. "One in the morning! You should be sleeping!"

"So should you," he replied with a sleepy grin and Melody rolled her eyes.

"I," she said, letting go of his hand and pushing herself away from the table. "Am a doctor. I am used to odd hours. You," she reached for his hand again and pulled his arm gently and James obliged her by standing up. "Are not a doctor. You are not used to this and you need to sleep."

James yawned again, which, in her mind only furthered the point. Even so, Melody smiled a bit to herself as she led the half-awake man to his bed. Without any protest or grumbling on his part, Melody pulled off his shirt and jeans and helped him into bed. James curled up under the covers instantly, a bit like a cat in their favorite chair and Melody smiled.

Leaning over him, she brushed some hair from his face and kissed him lightly. "No more staying up for me," she told him. "That's not healthy." James barely slept the night before and hadn't slept during the day that she was aware of. Roughly, Melody estimated that it had been nearly twenty hours since he'd last slept. It wasn't a pace he could keep going at, he'd get sick eventually.

"I thought you'd need me," he mumbled, eyes closing as Melody laid under the covers and rolled onto her side. "You had a rough time, when that train derailed." He jerked them open again, looking at her, waiting for her to confirm or deny that she needed someone to be there for her.

A pang shot through Melody's chest, equal parts sorrow and profound happiness. _I can't believe he remembered that,_ Melody herself had forgotten it. Not the wake of trauma and death the train accident had left in it's wake, but what had happened to her afterwards. How she'd come back to the house, battling with the ghosts in her mind and loosing. That she had forgotten. And James had not. He'd stayed up, waiting for her in case the bus crash brought the same feelings back again.

James's tired eyes fluttered open and he frowned at her. "Hey," he reached out with his hand and curled it around her face. "Don't cry. It's alright." His thumb swept across her cheek and Melody realized in that moment that she was in fact tearing up. She hadn't even realized it. "Talk to me," James said, his words heavy with tiredness. "I'm right here."

"I'm fine," Melody said, swallowing the lump that was forming quiet rapidly in her throat.

"You're crying," James wiped away another tear. This time, Melody was aware of the warm liquid running a path down her face.

"Nothing bad happened today," she said, voice cracking as curled her hand around James's. His fingers felt like ice but it didn't matter. Cold had never been so comforting. "Mass injuries, some serious but no deaths yet that I'm aware of."

"Then what's wrong?"

Melody slide closer to him and rested her head on his chest. James had cold hands, but his chest was warm. She sighed against his skin and pressed a kiss on his chest, right where his heart was beating. "I love you."

"I know," James's words slurred a little bit and Melody felt his arm relax.

"I don't say it enough." Melody realized the truth of that as the words left her mouth. She never said 'I love you' enough. Not to anyone. Not to Sharon and not to James. That needed to change and she closed her eyes, another set of warm tears sliding down her face as she promised herself she would remedy that oversight. She had to do better. James deserved that from her.

James didn't reply to her, but she knew by the relaxed, steady pace of his breathing and heart that he had fallen asleep. Melody sighed, and began to hum _Chasing Cars_ . She didn't do this for her own sake, as she felt perfectly content and safe, she was doing it for James. She hummed softly through the entire song, hoping, that he'd heard. Hoping his sleeping mind would latch onto that and dream of music instead of murder.

But whether nor not she finished the song Melody didn't know, despite all her best attempts, her twelve hour run in a hospital, James's around her and the lulling patterns in the song sent her off to sleep.

***

Melody awoke to a pleasant pressure against the middle of her back. Though she was not yet fully awake, a sigh escaped her as the pressure increased sharply before moving towards her left side.

"Morning," James's gravely voice reached her ears and she felt the rough scraping of his stubble-covered jawline against her cheek as he kissed her.

"Morning," she murmured back, sighing as she felt James's fingers prod against a particular stiff muscle. "Do we have any coffee?" Though it couldn't have been that late in the day, already, Melody felt the steady, pounding beat of a headache radiating through her skull. Given how long her day had been yesterday, it wasn't a far-fetched diagnosis to think that a lack of caffeine was the cause.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to run out?" James teased and Melody felt the bed shift as he crawled out of it. "I'll make you breakfast."

Melody sat up too. "I just asked for coffee."

"I don't give a damn if you're a doctor," James informed her, pulling on his jeans from the night before. "Despite what you believe, you cannot live off of caffeine. And after yesterday, you need real food now more than usual. What sounds good?"

 _Coffee,_ she thought, raking her hand through her snarly hair. But that wouldn't be an acceptable answer so Melody said the first thing that popped into her head. "French Toast?"

James pulled on his shirt and grinned at her. "Sounds great, I'll get started on that and you can start coffee."

Melody smiled. "What? You're not afraid I'll blow it up?"

James shrugged. "Nah, if that was going to happen it already would have. I _think_ I can trust you with it." He put heavy emphasis n the word "think" and Melody rolled her eyes. She knew very little about cooking, but she certainly knew how to make coffee.

"I hate you," Melody informed him as she got up off the bed and made her way towards the coffee pot.

"I'm too cute for you to hate me," James shot back as she tried to reach the Folgers. James had placed it on the top shelf and sadly, for her, that was a bit out of her reach. He must have realized it as well, as she saw a long arm rise above her head and hand it down to her. "And I'm too useful. How else would you reach tall things if you didn't have me?"

"I'd use a stepstool," Melody replied, taking the red container from James and trying not to smile. "I got by fine for thirty years without you."

"Yeah," James agreed and he brushed another kiss, playfully across her cheek. "But it's easier to have some help isn't it?"

Melody wasn't able to stop her blushing. He was right. Though she'd lived three decades completely self-reliant, having another set of hands to help with everyday, irksome tasks was nice. She'd almost forgotten what that was like.

She pried open the Folgers and the rich, bitter smell of coffee grounds reached her nose. Already, it seemed to make her throbbing head feel better, just knowing that relief wasn't that far away. As she worked, off to her side she heard James rattling around by the stove and soon, the sizzling sound of food on a hot pan mixed with the steady drip off coffee.

The smell was intoxicating and Melody realized how hungry she was as her stomach growled angrily, demanding food. The sound was not unnoticed by James either. "When was the last time you ate?"

Melody turned around and leaned against the counter. Now that he asked, she realized it had been too long. She'd eaten breakfast with him yesterday morning, but when she had been brought to the city and the crash occurred, Melody really hadn't made time for lunch or dinner. Her stomach growled again, as though to further remind her of her failure to take proper care of that organ.

Her silence was answer enough. "Melody," James said and his voice carried a bit of a warning edge. "That's not okay."

"I know," she shrugged. "I didn't mean to. I just...got caught up in the medicine." She'd missed t so much, though she'd only been apart from it for not even two weeks. Surgery was one of the greatest things in her life. Knowing her intelligence and skill were the reason some people were still living and breathing was incredible. A high, unlike anything she'd ever known. Her ability to turn that darkness inside into a tool, but not a tool for murder but a tool to preserve human life was what brought her peace. And she'd been missing both of those things ever since she walked through the doors of the compound.

"What'd you do anyways?" James asked, interrupting her musings as he flipped over the food. The bread had turned golden brown. "At the hospital I mean, when you got there."

"Oh," Melody grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. She had to stand up on her toes to do it. "Well I was on the scene of the crash and started triaging victims-."

"What's 'triaging'?" James flipped the French toast onto a plate and Melody set two mugs off coffee down on the table.

"Triage is a system of assess patients injuries and deciding where to go from there. In a mass causality situation, that just means deciding who's treatment is priority one-there the ones who can't afford to wait. In this case, it was a fellow who'd suffered an neck injury, I had to do an emergency tracheotomy, which basically means making an incision into the throat," Melody ran her fingertip over her throat to demonstrate. "And then putting in a tube to get air into their lungs."

"You had a breathing tube on you?"

"No."

"Then how exactly," James set a plate down in front her which was piled with two slices of golden French toast and no syrup. Exactly how she liked it. "Did you do that tracheotomy thing?"

"I had a pen," Melody said, grabbing her fork and cutting a section of the crispy bread off. "So I emptied it out, swabbed it with an alcohol wipe from my purse and put it in. Not exactly pretty, but it worked. "

"How'd you make the cut?"

"One of T'challa bodyguards had a pocket knife. Again, really not pretty," she winced, recalling the bulky feeling of the blade in her hand. It wasn't even close to a scalpel, but it was all they had. In her mind's eye, Melody could easily recall the vivid shade of John Doe's face as he tried and failed to breathe on his own. As with many trauma procedures, there wasn't time to be neat and perfect. It was life and death. Life and death meant it had to be quick and it had to work. There was no room for anything else. "But if I'd waited until I had proper tools he would've suffocated. When the ambulance came, I jumped in the rig with him and came to the hospital. They had more incoming so I was a welcome addition and I spent part of my time their repairing his throat, with help of course, a fellow assisted me and then I was back in the ER doing sutures and assessing patients as they came in."

"Why didn't you just do it alone? Did you really need another set of hands?"

Melody took a bite before answering. The food was savory and felt good on her empty stomach. "I don't often repair tracheas," she said. "I needed someone with a bit more experience. Just to be safe. So they paged plastics. They do more trach repairs."

"Plastic as in plastic surgery?"

"Yep." Melody saw the confusion written on James's face, from his raised eyebrows to the fact that he'd paused with his food halfway to his mouth. "Not to be confused with cosmetic surgery which it seems like you're doing."

"Well what's the difference? Don't they both deal with how someone looks?"

"Yes, but cosmetic surgery is elective. As in the patient does not need it, they just want it. Plastic surgery deals more with reconstruction. They deal with both look _and_ function. Say, for instance if my face was crushed in a freak accident, it is a plastic surgeon who would repair that damage and be concerned not only with making me look human again, but making sure that the things on my face, like my nose work the way they're supposed to."

James plopped a bit of French toast into his mouth. "Well, it's nine the morning and I already learned something new. Productive day." He smiled teasingly at her and Melody couldn't help but grin back. It was hard not to smile at James.

"Then it's a good day," she replied. "I don't think any day is complete without learning at least one new thing."

"Preferably surgical related right Doctor?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Though I wouldn't mind learning how to make this stuff," Melody speared another bit of French Toast. "I know the basics, but I've never actually done it before."

"And that's probably a good thing." James's eyes twinkled and Melody's face flamed. No doubt he was remembering her disastrous attempt at making pancakes. The same principle had applied for her, Melody had known the basics to how to make them, but had never actually done it herself. She had figured it wouldn't be that hard, but had been proven wrong when she'd burned them to bits of charcoal and set off the smoke alarms.

"How can I get better if I don't learn?"

James laughed. "True. I'll teach you someday, just make sure there's a fire extinguisher on hand."

Melody rolled her eyes, face still very warm. "So, if that's what I have to wait on to learn how to make breakfast, what else can you teach me today? I'd like to get ahead of the game myself." She smiled, teasing but James did not. The grin he had been wearing slipped off his face and his gaze fell down onto his half-empty plate. "What's wrong? What'd I say?"

"Not what you said," James replied, sounding a bit moody as he stabbed his breakfast. Melody jumped a bit at the sudden change. He'd been talking and joking with her ten seconds ago, whatever was on his mind must've been awful. It was the only explanation as to why his mood had changed so drastically in such a short span of time. Melody sighed and set down her fork. Suddenly she wasn't so hungry. James was never this moody with her. Not anymore. Whatever it was that set it off, she was afraid to know. Had something gone wrong at the lab yesterday while she was gone? Had the doctors finally given up? Pronounced that there was nothing more they could do? That was the hardest sentence for any scientist to utter, but it did happen. She had said it herself many times and that was a pill that never stopped being bitter. And even if it wasn't the lab, a fight with Steve could've put him out of sorts too. Melody wasn't sure which it was, but she was going to find out and there was only one way to do that.

Melody reached across the table and grabbed James's hand. "Hey," she said gently. "Talk to me."

James curled his fingers around her hand, but he didn't look her in the eye. "Sharon saw us yesterday and she was not pleased."

Melody felt her heart drop into her stomach. _Oh crap._ Despite her assurances to her friend that she was mentally and emotionally sound, Sharon had not believed her. Of course, Melody couldn't really blame her for that. She still hid her arms from the elbow up, never undressed in front of her despite knowing her for over a decade and she still had all her secrets bottled up inside. Sharon only had her word that Melody was okay, but she had no proof outside of it. The fact that she still worried made sense. But that had a drawback, mostly in the form of Sharon's highly over protective nature.

"And what," Melody asked, squeezing his hand. She wasn't sure if it was more for his assurance or for her own. "Does 'not pleased' mean?"

James's still didn't look at her, but Melody felt his fingers tighten around her hand and a shadow of a scowl on his face. "She made it clear in no certain terms that I was not allowed to flirt with you, was not stable, reliable or safe enough for you, that you'd just beat yourself up if I told you how I felt and when I tried to object to how she kept talking for you I got a nice little reminder about how I strangled you last week."

A very hard, bitter note entered his voice as he said that and Melody felt it echo in her own mind. "She said that?" Melody's voice sounded cold, even to her own ears. "She actually said that?"

James looked up at her finally, his face was a little pale. He opened his mouth, but Melody leapt her to feet, tearing her hand from James's own and though her blood was boiling inside her, Melody's head was perfectly clear. She needed to talk to Sharon and she needed to do it now.

"Melody," James said as she pulled on her boots. He was still sitting motionless at the table, but his eyes followed her every move. "What are you doing?"

"I need to speak with Sharon," she replied, hearing her voice. It sounded odd to her, but she wasn't quiet sure why. Melody could feel barely contained rage trembling through every bone in her body. It wasn't for lack of understanding on her part; she knew why Sharon had said the things she did. If the situation were reversed, Melody might have been of the same mind. Sharon did have a point, being with James was not a safe thing. Melody would never deny that truth. It was something she couldn't escape. But even though she was right on that count, even though she only said those things out of a desire to protect someone she loved-there was a line in the dirt. And bringing up what happened in the lab had crossed it entirely.

No amount of love excused that and Melody was fully intent on making sure Sharon knew it.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" James's stood up then, his chair scraping along the floor as Melody tied off her laces. 

"Of course I'm sure," she made a move to get off the edge of the bed, but James grabbed her arm. "Let go of me."

"I will," James said, still holding her wrist gently. "When you calm down."

"I am calm," but even as she said that, Melody knew it was wrong. Now, she knew why her voice sounded so strange. Her words were short, clipped but not cool and collected. They were bitter and agitated, leaving her mouth with increasing levels of volume. She _was_ shouting, or at least, she was coming very, very close to that level. Her voice was far louder than it normally was. 

The knowledge made her stop a moment. Melody never shouted. "I was shouting," she said, more to herself than to James. The knowledge was still so strange. Melody remembered the last time she'd been angry enough to shout. It had been two years ago, after that mother and son came into her ER. 

"Yes," James agreed, his hand still on her wrist though he wasn't quiet holding her steady anymore. It was more like a comforting gesture. "You were."

"Is that why you stopped me?"

"Yes."

"You're not angry with Sharon?" she asked. 

"No, I am." James looked over at her. "Of course I am. She had no right to talk for you like that and frankly that's what pissed me off the most. The things she said about me weren't wrong, but she's wrong about you. You're stronger than she gives you credit for."

Melody leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. The fact that Sharon under estimated her was her own fault. She couldn't blame Sharon for holding that belief when Melody herself had done nothing to prove them otherwise. James had it wrong. "From what I let her know about me," she said, "Sharon's assumptions about my strength are correct. Inaccurate in reality, but that's my fault. It was you she's wrong about."

She lifted her head up and pressed her lips against James's cheek. The stubble was rough against her skin but she didn't mind it. The scratchy texture, like his cold fingers were now something Melody associated with comfort. Love had turned things she once found irksome into things that she now cherished because they were part of him. 

"You're good enough for me James," she said softly, laying her head on his shoulder again. Even siting down, James was still taller than her which made the gesture both easy and comfortable. 

"I never told you she said that," he replied, and Melody glanced up at him to see a curious frown on his face. "Or did I?"

"You didn't," she said, "but the meaning was there. Besides, she said the same thing to Derrick when she met him."

"Did she?"

"Yep." And she was wrong again. _Derrick was-is good enough for me, I'm just not good enough for him,_ she thought as she stood up and this time James let her. "Thank you," she said, "for holding me back." It had initially annoyed her, but Melody knew why he'd done it. Angry as she was, Melody now had control over that feeling and had been lacking it before. If she'd gone off to speak with Sharon in that state, she would've said things she didn't mean. Maybe let something too important slip. James had protected her from that. Now she had the anger to say what needed to be said and the control to make sure it was only what was needed and nothing more.

She made her way towards the door and this time James didn't stop her. Before she walked out, Melody turned back. "Thank you, by the way, for stopping me."

James shrugged. "It was nothing."

Melody shook her head. No, protecting her from herself was everything. The greatest battle anyone would ever fight would be with their worst instincts. Melody already knew that she lost against hers. She learned that when she was twelve years old and put that gun under John's chin. She could never win that battle-not alone. And thanks to James, she had not been alone. She'd had someone at her side, fighting with her and reminding her why those lower instincts, those dark places inside her soul couldn't be allowed to win.

That wasn't nothing.

 _Come to think of it,_ Melody thought as she left the apartment. That anger now mixing with logic and a clear sense of purpose. _James is too good for me too. He just doesn't realize it._


	29. Twenty-Nine

As it turned out, Sharon had gone into the city for a work conference call via Skype. Though there was Wi-Fi and such at the compound, said compound was also, technically housing criminals and Sharon had not wanted to risk exposing their whereabouts. And so, the conversation Melody needed to have with her would have to wait. She could have called of course, but Melody couldn't bring herself to do that. This was a conversation they needed to have face to face. _And besides_ , she thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach. _She'd probably be too busy to talk to me anyway_. The idea stung more than Melody wanted to admit, even to herself.

So, when she discovered the conversation would have to wait, Melody made ready to turn around and head back to her apartment. Though she did want to see James again, she did need a change of clothes first as she was still wearing the same things she had been in yesterday. Probably wouldn't hurt to shower either. 

However, Melody did not get very far on that path before she heard Steve Rogers call her name. She stopped, annoyance and dread curling through her body. She hadn't talked with Steve since the lab and she was glad for it. Melody had crossed a line with him, bringing up Stark as she had. She shouldn't have crossed it and she felt remorse for it but she couldn't unbend her pride enough to apologize. Steve had hit a bit too close to home for her liking that day.

He was right to distrust her. It made him smarter than most people she knew. Melody did have a dark side, and it was the one thing she feared most in the world. She already knew how people could be horrible to other people, it didn't frighten her anymore. She'd seen it too much. She'd grown up in it and later witnessed even more as a doctor. No, other people and what they could do didn't frighten Melody. Melody frightened herself. How she could shut off, stop caring, stop having empathy and make the most logical choice, even if it was the most callous, inhumane one. She'd done it before and Melody knew, in her heart of hearts, she would do it again. There was no knowledge more frightening to her.

Melody turned around and pasted a polite smile to her face. "Captain," she greeted. "Did you need something?"

Steve smiled at her in return though he looked a bit shy. Not at all like the calm, confident man who'd pulled Melody from the collapsed subway tunnel after Loki's army invaded New York. "I'd like a word with you, if that's okay." His tone was far more polite than Melody had been expecting. They didn't exactly get along, she and Steve Rogers. She had great respect for him, but Melody wasn't sure she liked him much-he was too impatient, impatience wasn't something Melody handled well. Impatience made for careless mistakes and she hated those even more. _How many have you made,_ she wondered as she glanced at the super-solider. _How many mistakes have you made in your haste to save the world?_

Steve stood parallel to her, looking out a massive window at the sprawling jungle below. "I've been wanting to talk with you since...well what happened in the lab." 

"Oh?" Melody said, but even those simple words brought back the memory of her neck being crushed and the blank, empty look in James's eyes. "What about?"

"Well," he sighed but Melody didn't look at him anymore than he looked at her. "I owe you an apology for how I talked to you before. I was wrong and I'm sorry."

"Oh," Melody said lamely, seeing a slight frown in her dim reflection. The window was clear enough to provide some view of her face, but the picture wasn't exactly clear. The same held true for Steve. She could just barely see his blue eyes in the glass pane.

"I don't know you very well," he continued, breathing deeply. "But Sharon loves you and so, I want to at least try and like you, for her sake."

 _How would you feel if you knew your best friend loved me too?_ Melody wondered but she wasn't going to say that. To Steve or Sharon for that matter. Love was a powerful thing. Melody had no idea just how powerful it was until she experienced it for herself, but it wasn't always enough to make things work.  Two years ago, it hadn't been enough and James had left her. Love hadn't been enough for them to stay together. Time had passed since then, but the situation hadn't changed. All the love they had wouldn't be enough to keep them together and this time, it was Melody who was going to leave. There was no point in working up Steve or Sharon with the truth when the truth wasn't enough to change the circumstances.

"You still don't trust me though," Melody commented and she saw, dimly in the window pane that Steve tensed up.

"No," he said after a bit of a silence. "I don't."

Melody smirked. Nothing had changed between them, apology or not. "Can I ask why that is?"

"Like I said," now Steve smiled in the reflection, but it was a smile just like her own. Neither of them where happy. "I don't trust people who don't have a dark side."

"Everyone has a dark side." 

"Yeah," he agreed, still wearing that self-loathing smile. "They do. But the longer it takes to get out, the worse it is."

"What brought you to that conclusion Captain?"

"Personal experience." The words carried a bit more weight and Melody's mind flashed to Tony Stark. _You had a run in with your dark side that day, didn't you Captain?  Couldn't have been pleasant, but I promise, you have nothing on me._

"I forgive you," Melody said after a bit of silence. "And I don't blame you for not trusting me."

"Really? Why is that?"

"I don't trust you either," she said with a shrug and she saw Steve smile again. "Don't take it personally, I don't trust most people."

"How many people do you trust Doctor Frasier?"

"I don't trust people," she replied with a shrug. 

Steve was silent for a while and finally, when he broke it his voice was hesitant. "Why?"

 _Because  John beat me when he was angry and liked cutting me up only to close the wound again and fathers are supposed to love their daughters. Because I spent too many nights passing out in a pool of my own blood._ _Because Moira let him do it and mothers are supposed to love their daughters._ _Because I committed a murder before I was even a teenager._ _Because  no one ever came to save me._

Those were all reasons to not trust people. They were the reason Melody didn't trust people. She only trusted one person. James. "I don't have a family," she said after a minute's thought. It wasn't an outright lie, but part of a much larger truth. Steve would take it the same way everyone did and that was fine by her. It was safer that way. "So I learned how to get by on my own."

"I lost my family too," Steve said, filling the awkward silence that had stretched between them. "I was eighteen when my mother died. What about you?" 

Melody willed herself to look at him. His expression was sympathetic again. "My dad," Melody's mouth tasted bitter. John wasn't her dad. "Killed himself when I was twelve." 

Steve's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, and you're mom?"

 _I'm not_. John's death had given Melody a shot at life.  "She's still alive."

"I thought you said you didn't have a family."

"I don't."

"But your mom's alive."

"I assume she is," Melody replied, hearing the cold, disinterested edge in her voice. "I haven't seen an obituary in the paper yet."

Steve winced visibly at her words. "You two don't get along?"

That was putting it mildly. "No."

"You don't have to answer this," Steve said slowly, shifting his stance and crossing his arms. "I know it isn't my place to ask, I don't really know you and you don't know me either."

"Are you going to actually ask a question Captain," Melody asked, "or are you going to continue skating around it?"

"What happened between you and your mom?"

 _She was willing to let me die because she was too much of a coward to leave her husband._ "She didn't take my dad's suicide well. Drank a lot." Melody answered, which was again true. Partial truths, she'd learned over her years of keeping secrets, were easier to manage than lies. "Wasn't much of a parent."

Steve frowned at her and again, his sympathetic expression didn't' grate on Melody the way she'd come to expect. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Melody shrugged like it was nothing and that was a lie. "It was a long time ago."

Steve opened his mouth, apparently ready to say more but another, new voice shattered their conversation.

"Hey," Sharon's voice carried down the blinding white hallway. She was smiling warmly at both of them, apparently happy to see her boyfriend and best friend having a civil conversation. 

"Sharon," Steve greeted warmly, bending down to kiss her cheek. "How'd the conference go?"

"Same old stuff," she replied with a wave of her hand. "Trying to catch crazy lunatics and not agreeing on how to do it. Pretty standard. Hey Mel! Glad to see your back. Everything okay at the hospital? Bet they were happy to have the extra help, I saw more coverage of the crash this morning. No deaths but there seemed to be a lot of carnage."

Melody smiled robotically. The anger she'd been carrying inside her since her earlier conversation with James had been dormant upon Steve's arrival and following question-answer session, but now it was bubbling back towards the surface. "There was," she said. "But the staff at South Central were good. They handled the situation well."

Sharon smiled at Melody. " Probably didn't hurt to have you on the scene though," and her friend winked a little. 

Melody tried not to smile at the praise. "It never hurts to have an extra pair of hands in a situation like that, but it does help when said pair of hands can throw a baseball stich in record time." Sharon nodded at that, no doubt remembering how fast Melody could throw that basic stich. In times of trauma, it was a bread and butter suture. It wasn't a pretty suture, but if speed was important and the wound was in a visible region of the body it was the one you wanted to use. 

Melody glanced pointedly at Steve. "I need to talk with you _alone_." 

Sharon blinked once but recovered and hide her surprise well. "Oh, alright. Steve, I'll see you later?"

"Sure," he smiled at Sharon and then looked back up at Melody. "Nice talking with you Doctor Frasier."

Melody nodded in response. "You as well." And without another word Steve Rogers made his way towards the elevator and stepped inside. When the doors closed, Melody glanced around and then, when she saw they were indeed alone, she looked over at Sharon. 

"So," her friend said, still smiling cheerfully. "What's on your mind?"


	30. Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Just wanted to express another thanks-I got a few comments on the last update, far more than I'm used to and that was really awesome to see when I logged in, so just wanted to say thank you guys again for supporting this story! Hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)

Bucky's days were incredibly routine. Almost nothing about them really changed or varied from one to the next. So, when his front door was thrust open and slammed shut with far more force than necessary that was certainly a variation on his normal. The sound was like a canon blast and Bucky shot up from his place in bed, journal flying out of his hands as he lunged for his gun on the nightstand. But even as his fingers brushed the cold handle, he realized that he didn't need it. There was no danger, it was only Melody, though upon further inspection, she certainly looked like someone who shouldn't be crossed. Her face was mostly pale, save her cheeks which had a high spot of color on them. Her green eyes were hard as stone and her mouth was drawn into a very thin line. In short, Melody looked angry, very angry and Bucky could recall one time he'd seen her look like that: when she'd talked about Moira. 

He was about to get up, ask what was wrong, but Melody saved him from that by flopping down onto her side of the bed and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Bucky turned his neck to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"Sharon is proving the idea of 'dumb blonde'," she said flatly, eyes boring into the space overhead. 

Bucky tried not to laugh. The words sounded silly to him but given Melody's expression he knew it was no laughing matter at all. "What about Sharon?"

"Had a conversation," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Her skull is as thick as a rock."  Melody huffed and rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in a pillow. 

"Easy," Bucky reached out and rubbed her lower back, following the curve of her spine. That was always a place Melody loved being touched and he wasn't disappointed when he heard a blissful sigh escape her. He continued that motion and asked, "What happened?" 

Melody rolled onto her side, her lips pursed in a sort of pouty expression. Exhaling a long breath, she began her story. "When I first went out to find Sharon, I found out she was on a work call in the city. Didn't know when she'd be back, so I was going to go back to my apartment and take a shower and change clothes."

"Okay and after that?"

"Oh I never went back to my apartment," Melody replied and Bucky rolled over to face her, confused. Her hair was damp and her clothing was different. Another blouse, but this one was a soft blue rather than grey. "Not before she got back anyways, Steve cornered me before I could go anywhere."

"Steve?" Bucky repeated. "Why'd he do that?"

"He wanted to talk to me," Melody said with a shrug. 

"Oh," Bucky rolled his eyes, "he didn't harass you too badly did he? Steve can be a bit overbearing sometimes, if he annoyed you by talking about the lab I'm sorry." Steve, he knew had been a bit difficult with all the doctors who were working with Bucky. He doubted Melody would be exempt from that treatment.

"We didn't talk about you," she said. "He just wanted to apologize to me."

"For what?" Bucky rolled over onto his side as well, no longer listening to passively. What had Steve needed to apologize for? 

"Later," Melody said dismissively. "It's not that important." 

Bucky scowled, but said nothing more on the topic. He was sure Melody was leaving things out, but they could come back to Steve later. Right now, it wasn't Steve that had hurt her and that meant whatever happened with him could wait. "Okay and after that you found Sharon?"

"No, she found me. I told her that I needed to talk to her, had to state that we needed to talk alone because Steve wasn't getting the message and things sort of went bad after that."

"And 'bad' means?"

"I said I overheard a bit of what she said to you in the garden. About what happened," her other hand rose to her throat, as though remembering the pain and regret and guilt flashed through Bucky at the motion. He didn't care if he lived another seventy years-he would never be able to forgive himself for what happened, not fully anyways. His hands, or rather his hand had hurt Melody. There was no getting over that.

"And?"

"Told her that she was never to do anything like that again-no matter how pissed off she was. She admitted she crossed a line and was sorry for it." Bucky nodded, he'd sensed remorse in the agent towards the end of their conversation. He could see that now since some time had passed. "But she insisted it was only because she was looking out for me. I told her she didn't need to do that."

"Let me guess," Bucky said, smiling not because this was funny, but because he knew Sharon Carter well enough to know where this was headed. "She didn't take that well? Is that why you two started fighting?"

"Not exactly," Melody looked away from him then and Bucky stopped smiling.

"Melody?"

"Sharon said that she aware that she did not have to look out for me, she said it was something she wanted to do because she cared about me." Melody closed her eyes. "That poured salt into an old wound and I snapped."

"What happened?"

"I told her she was wrong, that she didn't really care about me-that she only cared when it was convenient for her. I brought up the call from last month, she didn't even know what I was talking about. And I just...I walked away. She gave herself the answer and she still doesn't get it."

Bucky sighed-he knew why Melody was still so hurt over it. But he didn't think she was being entirely reasonable-she hadn't pressed the issue that day with Sharon, saying she really needed to speak with her and it couldn't wait. "To be fair," he said slowly. "Sharon doesn't know you as well as she believes she does. She's missing some pieces."

"Yeah," Melody said softly. "What's your point?"

"She can't really understand how much something might mean to you because she doesn't have those pieces." Bucky said carefully. He wanted to help Melody, but he didn't want to piss her off either. It was a pretty thin line to walk. "You said you needed to talk to her and she brushed it off at the time. You're hurt by that and I don't blame you for it."

"Where are you going with this James?"

An irritated edge had entered Melody's voice and Bucky shut his eyes, ready to get this over with as fast as possible. "But you didn't really push that did you, when she asked to talk later? You didn't object to it, you just gave up. Sharon has her faults, I know that pretty well." He wasn't going to forget what she'd said to him in the gardens anytime soon. "But she does love you. If you'd pushed her, she would've come but you didn't give her that chance. You just...shut down."

He opened his eyes, panting slightly and resigned to the fact that he was going to see Melody's furious expression boring a hole into his face. Bucky didn't see that at all. Melody's eyes were closed, her legs curled up to her chest-she didn't look angry at all. She looked exhausted, defeated even.

"I know," she said, voice soft. "It was easier."

"Easier?"

"Easier than opening up again," Melody said, her eyes still closed.  She sighed heavily and opened her eyes. "I put on a tough act, but honestly? I'm a coward. A huge coward. I don't want to get hurt again. I'm afraid of that. You can't even imagine how much that scares me."

Bucky frowned. "You let me in, that required opening up to being hurt." 

Melody shook her head. "No it didn't."

"Um, that's sort of how love works, you open yourself up to being rejected if you say something." He knew that fear well, he'd become very well acquainted with it two years ago, as he'd fallen in love with Melody. Those fears then, the fear that she'd turned him away seemed so silly now. 

"But I didn't open up. You did." She said, reaching out and touching his face. " _You_ are the one who moved first. I didn't risk anything when I kissed you-I already knew how you felt. You're the one who risked getting hurt that night, I didn't."

Bucky rolled his eyes. She was technically right-he'd been the one to start things, yes, but Melody had risked something that night too. "I saw what you looked like for the first time-wasn't that a risk?"

Melody's pale face turned a little pink. "Maybe. I didn't think you'd touch me again."

"Seems you wrong on that count," Bucky teased, letting his hand trace down her arm. Even though he couldn't see it, he knew exactly where the scar began. He'd memorized it, among other things.

"Being wrong usually isn't so pleasant." She said, eyes twinkling as she smiled at him. "I almost collapsed when you kissed me that night."

Bucky blushed a little. Though Melody wasn't being specific, she didn't need to be. He knew what kiss she was talking about. Not their first one, but the one that had come afterwards, the one after he'd first seen the scars John had carved into her body. The kiss-or rather series of kisses he'd left across them, desperate for her to understand that John had been wrong about her. "I didn't notice."

"I had a death-grip on the sink. That helped a little."

"I didn't mean to shock you like that," he apologized. Bucky ran over that night in his mind once, but he didn't have any recollection of Melody feeling weak under his touch. None at all. But then again, he had been rather absorbed in what he was doing at the time. "I shocked myself a little too if that helps."

Melody laughed a bit and she turned his hand over, tracing with her index finger in his palm. Bucky wasn't sure what the shape meant but it felt good anyways. "I remember, you're face was white afterwards."

"Was it?" 

"I've seen cadavers with better color."

"What's a cadaver?" Bucky asked, frowning. The word was very unfamiliar to him-though something about it sounded vaguely funny. He wasn't sure why.

"A dead body donated to science."

Bucky was wrong. There was nothing funny about the word 'cadaver'. "That's gross."

"It's useful," Melody corrected him. "It's a great way to practice surgical skills and no one can get hurt if they mess up."

"True, but I still think it's gross." Bucky said as he wrinkled his nose. He'd seen enough dead bodies to last a lifetime.

"It'd rather my student's messed up on a cadaver than a living patient." Melody commented, her fingertip still tracing across his the palm of his hand.

"What exactly are you doing?" Bucky asked, smiling as he watched her continue the pattern.

"Studying."

"Studying what? The lines in my palm?"

"No, your metacarpals, there's five of them and those make up your palm. Your fingers," she slid her fingertip down his palm to his middle finger. "Are called phalanges and the same name applies to your toes."

Bucky grinned. "Where do you store all this information?"

"I just practice," Melody disagreed. "You either use the things you learn or you forget them. That's how the mind works. Though admittedly we know very little about the human brain, it's  a mysterious organ."

Bucky shook his head. "Mysterious or not, not everyone can memorize this stuff the way you do." The level of understanding that went into it, knowing how things connected in the human skeleton just seemed beyond Bucky. "I couldn't do it." He knew how to break the body, but he didn't know how it connected together to rebuild it afterwards. 

Melody stopped tracing over the bones in his hand and propped herself up on one elbow. "Yes you could."

"I have a really bad memory," he said. Yes, the joke was rather tasteless, but given that Bucky was the one saying it, he felt that made the situation better. "And besides, I don't have the attention span for it either. There's what, two hundred bones in the human body?"

"Two hundred and six by the time you reach adulthood," Melody corrected.

"See? I couldn't learn them all." Bucky had never been that good of a student. He goofed off too much as other things were simply more interesting than whatever the teacher had been writing on the blackboard.

"Yes, you could. I could teach you."

"Don't tell me you brought flashcards with you," Bucky laughed. "Because that's kind of sad. You're supposed to be on vacation remember? People don't bring flashcards on vacation."

Melody smirked at him. "I did not bring flashcards with me, but don't worry, I'll still be able to teach you."

"Going to consult Google?" Bucky had learned about the Internet and the famed search engine in his time on the run. He still struggled with it at times, but had to concede that it was a very useful tool for gathering information when you were short on time. "They probably have flash cards there." Truth be told, he wasn't eager too eager to learn about bones, but Melody's smiling face was very hard for him to refuse.

"No," Melody said, still smiling. "I have something better." She sat upright and with the same smirk on her face, she began to unbutton her shirt.

That shocked Bucky out of his rather lazy state and suddenly, he was much, much more alert. A current rose over his skin like an electric shock, his eyes were locked on Melody as she slowly, and purposefully removed her shirt, revealing the plain bra she wore, the toned muscles of her arms and stomach and the pale white scars on her otherwise smooth skin. The sight of her as she tossed her clothing aside was so familiar to Bucky, the feeling of her body pressing against his, holding him down onto the mattress was familiar too. The way his hand slid around her waist, the tips of his fingers touching the rough, layered scars was second nature. It was easy as breathing. 

Melody smiled as she hovered over him. "Now," she said, "we're starting here," she brought one finger to collar bone. "This is my clavicle."

Bucky sat up, letting his hand rest lightly over Melody's hip. _Maybe I'll be better at this than I thought,_ he mused as he began leaving  a trail of kisses across the indicated bone. "Clavicle," he repeated back as Bucky reached the start of her shoulder. "What's next?"


	31. Thirty-One

Bucky nestled against Melody, running his hand over her long leg. "This is the tibia?" he tried and Melody shook her head. 

"Not quiet," she guided his hand a little more to the left. "That's my tibia."

"So then I was indicating your fibula?" Bucky said, recalling the instruction from earlier. "That's the smaller one?"

"Correct," Melody brushed a kiss against his chest. "And that was?"

Bucky laughed though he wasn't ticklish. The kiss felt good, the same way having his hand curled around her leg did, but animal-like desire wasn't roaring inside him anymore because of them. He was too tired for that. They had actually started out reviewing bones across Melody's body, each of them taking turns removing their clothing and naming off bones as they went. But of course, the reviewing hadn't lasted forever and soon they'd gotten caught up in loving each other. Minutes ago, they'd reached the end and we're now just laying side by side, resting and content. 

"That was my sternum, where most of the ribs connect." Bucky drew his hand a little higher, over her knee. " And this is your patella?" He did remember that one pretty clearly. He thought the name was funny so it left a strong impression. 

Melody beamed. "Very good! See? I knew you could do this!" She smiled and laughed happily, kissing his shoulder. "What was that?"

He was about to disappoint his teacher. "Scapula?" Bucky couldn't remember the name, he knew the one he gave was wrong, but he at least wanted to try and give some answer.

"That's your shoulder blade," her hand curled around his arm, touching the selfsame bone as she spoke. "This," she kissed his collar again. "Is your clavicle."

Bucky grimaced. He remembered it now, his memory constructing a vivid image of Melody straddling him, shirtless and indicating the bone as she named it. "Whoops."

"It's alright," Melody shrugged. "You're doing pretty good considering you lack any formal education about this."

"Formal education is boring," Bucky replied, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. "This is way better."

He moved his arm farther up her leg, curling around her hip-he'd forgotten the scientific name for it but Bucky didn't care. Whatever the hell it was called, he liked how it felt when she moved it against him. "James," she moaned as Bucky rolled on top of her. God, he loved how she sounded when she was like this. Melody, ironically, had a musical quality to her voice normally, but when she was like this, getting swept away in desire, the bell-like sound became rougher, less refined. It was no less beautiful however and it drove Bucky insane. 

"Easy Nightingale," he whispered against her throat, grinning as he felt her press her hips against his. The contact was electric and Bucky growled in pleasure as he felt blood surge hotly to his groin. Bucky grinned wolfishly and trailed a line of kisses up her neck, following the racing beat of her pulse as he broke away and brushed across her jawline, then their lips met again.

Melody's fingers clawed into his back, painful, but Bucky didn't mind. The pain was equal to the pleasure coursing through him as their  tongues  me, tentative but he knew it wouldn't last as he felt Melody's hands slide up his back and tangle into his hair. The soft explorations never lasted long anymore. Passion drove them away and left nothing other than need in it's wake.

Melody moaned as if to further than point and Bucky grinned against her mouth. He let his hand slide down her chest, wishing he had both arms. He made do most of the time, but times like this, he wished had two hands to hold her with.  However, before he could touch her anymore than he was, a knock on the door sounded and he and Melody broke away. The lust that had clouded Bucky's mind before this vanished and he looked from Melody's flushed face to the door where the knocking continued.

Bucky looked back to the doctor who's sat upright, drawing the covers around her chest. Her face was blank, more curious than worried. That made one of them. Bucky's heart was racing in his chest and he felt weak-and not for good reasons. If that door opened they'd have a hell of a lot explaining to do. Bucky wasn't ashamed of Melody, not all, he couldn't be, but if word of them had to get out, he would have preferred it wasn't because they had been caught in bed together. He wanted to do things properly. Melody moved quickly, moving away from him and gathering her clothes from the floor and quickly and quietly, she vanished into the bathroom and a moment later, he heard the spray of the shower being turned on.

Bucky grinned at the open door. Whoever was at the door, getting them to leave wouldn't be an issue now. Bucky grabbed his boxers from the floor and went to the door. Steve was in the doorway and his hand dropped as the door opened. "What's up?" Bucky asked over the pattering sound of the shower.

"I was looking for Doctor Frasier, have you seen her?"

"No, why?" The lie came easily to Bucky's lips. He hadn't told Steve how much Melody meant to him. He hadn't told her she was the Nightingale that he sometimes called out for as he fought his way out his nightmares. Bucky wanted to, he hated keeping secrets from Steve, but he wasn't the only person in this situation. He wouldn't say anything without Melody's permission. And even if she had given her blessing, he wouldn't have said anything now. _Yeah she's currently waiting for me in the shower, mind coming back later?_ That wasn't exactly how he wanted to tell Steve about Melody. There was less crude ways of saying he was in love with the doctor than that. Not to mention Steve might have fainted if he heard that. The guy was sort of a prude. 

"I saw Sharon and she's fighting mad angry with her. Not sure why, but I was going to try and convince them to talk it out."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Do you think that's wise? I've seen both women angry, it's not pretty. I don't think putting them in the same room is a good idea."

Steve looked surprise. "You've seen Doctor Frasier angry?"

"Once, it was scary." Bucky wrinkled his nose. Angry wasn't really the right word for what Melody had been feeling that she'd come home from West Memorial, suspended after confronting a mother of an abused child who'd come into her ER with a broken leg.

Steve nodded. "I believe it. People who are usually calm are the worst when they're mad. They have more built up."

 _There's truth in that_ , Bucky thought as he recalled Melody breaking down that day in the kitchen, yelling at a woman she hadn't spoken to in seven years. Well, nine now but still. Nine or seven, that was a long time for emotions to build up. "I'll let her know you're looking for her if she swings by," Bucky said. "I'm gonna go shower, so I'll see you later."

"Thanks Buck," Steve said even as he closed the door and leaned against the doorframe. What now? They were alone again but Bucky wasn't sure if Melody would be content to pick things up where they left off. That had been a pretty close call... _One way to find out,_ he decide as he made his way towards the bathroom, steam leaking through the opening door and when he stepped inside, the mirror was almost completely hidden in a grey fog. 

"He's gone," he said into the fog, making his way across the cool tile floor. 

Melody slid open the glass door to the shower, her shoulder-length hair turned dark blonde by the water. She smiled mischievously at him. "Great," she beckoned him forward with one curl of her index finger.

Bucky moved towards her, grinning back and their lips met again, warm water rolled down her face onto his. They broke apart and he heard a distinct change in Melody's breathing. Or maybe it was his. He couldn't tell. He didn't care either. 

Melody broke away and Bucky felt her wet hand curled around his cheek. "Now," she said, voice husky. "Are you going to join me or not?"


	32. Thirty-Two

Melody wasn't prone to stressing out. However, she was only human and though she was quiet excellent at tuning out of her own feelings, she didn't do that all of the time. And so, she, like everyone else could experience stress and that had happened today. The idea of being caught naked-no matter what she was doing, was an experience Melody found incredibly stressful. Thankfully though, endorphins were a great way to calm down and now, she felt relaxed and comfortable as she laid across James's couch, her legs stretched out carelessly in his lap, her damp hair curling around her neck. _I'll have to look in a mirror before I go anywhere_ , she thought. _Might have a few new bruises._ Not that she minded them, but still, awkward questions were things she preferred to avoid when possible.

"Melody?" James's gravely voice made her smile. She loved his voice. The familiar, ragged quality made his words wash over her like a caress.

"Yeah?"

"It was Steve at the door earlier, he was looking for you."

"Oh? Did he say why?" Melody hoped he wasn't going to attempt at a bonding exercise. Steve had earlier, voiced the hope of trying to get along with her better, for Sharon's sake and while she appreciated the sentiment, she had three days left in Wakanda and Melody knew exactly how she preferred to spend that time. It was the last bit of time they'd have together. Before they'd have to say goodbye again. 

"Wanted to get you and Sharon talking to each other," James continued, "apparently she's still pissed."

"Bad idea." Melody said instantly. She herself was calm about the matter now-James had been right, though initially, it had been a bit hard to swallow. Melody wasn't used to being wrong, but then again, she was only human. She had been unduly harsh on her friend, she'd given up on her rather than give her another chance and Melody did want to remedy that. However, she knew it was in her best interest to wait until Sharon was calm as well. She'd been friends with the agent long enough to know she was a force to be reckoned with when she was mad.

"That's what I told him, but I did say that I'd pass it on if I saw you."

Melody opened one eye and smirked at him. "Well what took you so long?"

She saw James grin back at her. "I was busy. You're not mad are you?"

Melody sighed, remembering exactly what "busy" meant and her toes curled involuntarily as the memory flitted across her mind. That would be something she'd hold onto when she returned to New York. "No, I think I'll let you off the hook."

"Great," she heard James's laugh as her eyes closed again.

"I should probably find Sharon soon," she mumbled more to herself than to James. "Maybe she's cooled off by now."

James's fingers began to trace over her leg, drawing meaningless lines into her skin. "Maybe," there was something heavy in his tone and Melody opened her eyes, no longer relaxed but not stressed. She was simply alert and more acutely aware of her surroundings.

"James," she asked, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Liar," Melody said without missing a beat. Brushing her hair back she sat up right and propped her elbow on the back rest of the couch. "Talk to me."

James still wouldn't look at her-a sure sign that something was bothering him. "I had to lie to Steve about where you where."

"Yeah, I know."

"I don't like lying to him. He's my friend."

Melody felt ice prick her heart. She could see where this conversation was going and it sent a cold feeling down her spine, but she saw no way to stop it. _Don't do this,_ she thought helplessly. _Please don't do this._

"I want tell him about you," James said and this time he looked at her. His blue eyes, though blue was typically a cold color, were warm with sincerity but the sight didn't warm Melody's heart, it made her feel sick. James's hand sought hers, his fingers like ice. "I know it'll be a bit hard for him to get used the idea," he gave her an apologetic smile, "and I know Sharon might try to shoot me, but I still think we should tell them. I hate sneaking around like this, it's like were ashamed of doing something wrong, but that's not what this is. We're not wrong."

He squeezed her hand and Melody felt her heart fracture in her chest. _We're not wrong,_ she agreed in her mind. _Love, real love is never wrong._ But it wasn't enough. Not here. Melody drew her hand away from James and crossed her arms. "I don't think we should say anything."

"Melody," James said gently. "It won't be that bad. We don't have to tell them exactly how this happened, we just have to tell them that it happened and that it's important to us."

Melody looked away from him, feeling the broken bits of her heart claw their way up her throat. "There's no point."

"Excuse me?"

"I go back to New York in two days," she said, voice thick as she drew her knees up to her chest. "What's the point of causing all that stress and anger when I'll be gone in forty-eight hours?" _Why shock everyone and piss them off for keeping this under wraps when it's going to be over in two days?  There's no point._ She hated that reality, but there was no way around it either. Love was a powerful thing, but even love had it's limits. 

James's smile faded a little at the reminder of her imminent departure. "Yeah, but just because you'll be back in New York doesn't mean I'll stop loving you." He reached for her again, his fingers curling around her chin and turning her face towards him. His smile was back and gentle expression broke Melody's heart even further. "And it's not like last time either, you know where I am now. And you know that you're welcome here, you have T'challa's number now, don't you?"

Melody wasn't sure how he knew that but James was correct. The young king had given her his personal cell phone number the day he'd taken her out of the compound and to the capitol city. He'd entered the number into her cell phone and told her to call if she ever wanted to come back to his country for whatever reason. A generous offer, she knew and Melody had not deleted the contact, but she knew she couldn't use it. 

"I do," she said slowly, feeling her eyes warm with tears. "But I won't be using it." 

James stopped smiling. "Why not?"

Melody turned her head. She couldn't bear to see his face when she said this. "Because I'm not coming back." 

"Melody, no one is going to track you here. As far as anyone is aware, I went missing in Siberia." James's cold hand rested on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. The contact was almost painful as she felt her explanation rise up in her throat. He was wrong. Her choice to stay away had nothing to do with keeping his location a secret, it was about her.

"Your life is here," she said softly. "Mine is in New York."

"I would never ask you to give up your job," James said instantly. "You know that. I know you have a life in New York."

"I know that," she willed herself to look at James, needing him to understand. This had nothing to do with her career, it had everything to do with how impossible the situation still was. "But that's not what I'm talking about."

"Melody," he squeezed her hand. "What's wrong?"

"Your entire life is here," she said, "everything that means anything to you is here. You don't have to separate anything."

"That's not going to be true in a few days," James commented, his voice soft and Melody felt his cold fingers brush against her face. "But that's not what you mean, is it?"

"No."

"Then what do you mean? I can't read minds, I'm not Wanda so you need to talk to me."

"Your life won't stop when I'm gone, you'll miss me, I know that." She smiled robotically, Melody wondered if a shard of her broken heart had punctured a lung. It would explain why it was so much harder to breathe right then. "But that won't be my situation. Being here, it's like I'm living in a different world-and I can't bring any of it back to New York when I go. I can't talk to anyone about it. Well, Sharon, but she's not the only person in my life. If I keep flying here every chance I get, people are going to notice. My friends are going to ask me what's going on and I can't answer them. And even if I tell a partial truth, like I did two years ago, that won't last forever. Sooner or later, I'll run out of excuses." Melody sighed, a sharp pain in her side, almost like a stitch after running a long distance. "And even if that wasn't a problem, there's just the matter of the back-and-forth that would come with it. I'd steal moments with you here, we'd say goodbye again and I'd be back in New York, counting down until I could leave and see you again. And it'd be one thing if it was temporary but it's not. It can't be and that, that isn't..." Melody trailed off, hating herself for what she was about to say, even if it was true. She took another painful breath, ready to speak but she was spared the moment. 

"That's not a life," James finished for her and a shiver traveled down her spine as their eyes met.

"No," Melody agreed softly, her vision blurring. "It's not." She hated what she was saying, but she'd had enough time to process the situation and in all ended the same way. Her feelings didn't change the reality of their situation. There was no way around it; there was no way to make them work long-term, not with how different their lives were.  Melody blinked again, trying to clear away the film of tears in her eyes. There were few things in life she truly hated, but crying was one of them. Sometimes it did help, she knew that, tears were, in many ways a biological reset button. But still, so often they made her feel powerless. She'd cried so much in her life. She'd cried when Moira locked her in the closet, she'd cried when John hit her, she'd cried when he cut her open and sutured her wounds back together-and it all had done nothing. Tears had changed nothing. The situation was the same now in that regard, Melody could cry all she wanted about having to leave James, but wouldn't change anything. She still had to go.

"Hey," James's gravely voice reached her ears and Melody felt his arm slide around her shoulders. "It's okay."

"There is nothing about this that is okay," Melody whispered, resting her head on James's shoulder. James's didn't answer and Melody was glad for it, she didn't want to talk anymore. She just wanted to live in her other world a little while longer before she had to say goodbye to it-say goodbye to him, for good. 


	33. Thirty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting today as my way of saying thank you for all the comments this fic has been getting recently! It's been really awesome to see!

Sometimes time moved slowly, like a glacier, so slow in it's path that the movement wasn't even noticeable. Other times, it moved impossibly fast, like the blink of an eye. Melody's last two days in Wakanda were both. How, she wasn't sure but it was the truth.

The two days themselves, as she looked back had gone by faster than she could say "code blue" but the hours and minutes that made them up had moved slowly. Each moment had dragged out, each touch that passed between her and James, each word they'd said-those had all happened slowly. And now they were soon to be over.

Melody packed her suitcase in silence, her heart broken and beating slowly in her chest. That heavy, crushing weight was already settling back over her chest. Though James was at her side right now, Melody was already falling back under the weight of her secrets. Her past was falling back onto her and she was no longer able to breathe freely.  She folded a last blouse and placed it in the suitcase. Everything she'd brought with her was now packed away and ready for the trip back to New York. 

She stepped back from her neatly made bed, she hadn't slept in it recently. Every moment spare moment she had, Melody had been with James. Last night had been no exception and when she'd looked in the mirror this morning, there had been a small blossoming of bruises along her neck and shoulders. She had already covered them of course, as it wouldn't do to show them off, but she was glad they were there. While Melody had never cared for the look of bruises, these sort didn't bother her nearly as much. They were just a sign that she'd been loved.

Melody ran her fingers absentmindedly over one, sighing as she looked at the still-open suitcase. She just had to close it now, reach for the zipper and yank it shut-and yet she couldn't move. 

James' s hand shot out into her line of vision and zipped the suitcase shut. The noise was ten times louder in the silence. "You ready?" he asked softly. James's expression was one Melody had seen before, two years ago when they'd last said goodbye. His mouth wasn't quivering and his spine was straight, but there was a shining, sorrowful look in his eyes and the colorless tone of his voice told the story well enough.

 _No,_ Melody thought, brushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. I'm not ready at all. _I'll never be ready to say goodbye to you._ She hadn't been ready for it two years ago, even with that nagging feeling in her gut telling her it was coming. She wasn't ready now either but she knew it didn't matter. "As I'll ever be," she said finally. It was the truth. 

James took a step towards her and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Melody," he said, his voice soft and his eyes still holding that sad gleam. "Please don't do this."

Melody's heart twisted in her chest. Since their conversation two days prior, neither she or James had brought up the matter again. She had thought it had been laid to rest, she knew James's didn't like it, but she had thought he'd at least understood why she couldn't return. Melody couldn't spend her life waiting for him, waiting for a future that could never be. It would only end in heartbreak and she'd had enough of that in her life. She wasn't a masochist and she wouldn't inflict pain on herself or anyone if she could help it and in this case, she could.

"James," she whispered, holding his face in her hands. His cheeks were rough with stubble. "We can't do this." _We can't keep trying to be together when we exist in two different worlds._

"We haven't even tried," he countered, voice still soft, but that didn't disguise the emotions burning in each word. If anything it made them more prominent. The affection, the sadness and desperation were there in each syllable James spoke. "I know it wouldn't be easy," he smiled softly at her, the gesture was more sadness than joy. "I know that, but difficult doesn't mean impossible."

Melody swallowed hard, a lump in her throat, and she was sure, whatever the mass was made of, it was crushing her vocal chords. She couldn't speak as she looked at James. His sad eyes, his pained but hopeful smile drove a knife into her heart. The overwhelming urge, the same one that she'd felt when she'd crossed that line two years ago and kissed him moved through her body like a ripple. She wanted to hold him, kiss him and remove that pained smile from his face. She wanted to say yes, tell him they'd find a way to work and she'd be back to him soon as she could.

But there was no point. Those were just empty words. What she felt now, the things James made her feel just by looking her direction didn't matter. It was powerful. Probably one of the most raw forms of it that Melody had ever experienced. The one thing that had been stronger than her fears, even before she'd been able to diagnose it properly-but it still wasn't enough. 

"I love you James," Melody whispered, choking on the words she as tried to speak past the sobs building up in her throat. "And I will always love you." As the words left her mouth, Melody realized why they were familiar, they were a variation of what James had told her the day they'd parted two years ago. Only now, it was her turn to say them. It was her turn to leave. James blinked and Melody saw a gleam of tears in his eyes now. The sight was worse than getting stitches without pain killers. The scar on her arm burned dimly as the ghost of a memory brushed against her mind, but it was feeble. She knew in that moment she'd take that pain again if it could spare James this pain now. She'd take it again in a heartbeat if that was an option. 

"You say that like you're saying goodbye," James said, his voice tight. 

"Because I am," Melody said, hearing her voice crack.

"There's nothing I can say to change your mind?"

 _If there was anything to change my mind, any solution I would have already thought of it._ "No, there isn't." James smiled sadly at her and Melody felt her heart fracture in her chest. Why it didn't make a noise in the room was beyond her. She already felt the pieces falling through her chest, right to her stomach which was filling with stabbing pain. 

"Nightingale."

The sound of her pet name broke her and Melody looked away from James, knees going weak as pain shot through her chest, right where her heart used to be.  Melody was no stranger to pain. She knew what it felt like to be strangled, to have her lungs cry for air and receive it only in the nick of time. She knew was it was like to be beaten and bruised so badly that every step was like dragging her body through glass. She knew what it felt like to crash down hard wooden stairs and have bones snap in the process. She knew what it felt like to have her flesh torn apart by metal buckles and then how it burned to have peroxide pour into the open wounds later. But this, this pain in her heart was worse than all of that. There was nothing in the world worse than loving someone and knowing you couldn't be together. Nothing at all.

"Hey," James's hand slid off her back and his cold fingers touched her face. The gesture had brought Melody comfort more times than she could count, but now it only brought pain. She'd never have this again. "Don't worry, I'll be alright."

Melody tried to find her voice, tell him she would be too, but her voice was gone. The words wouldn't come. Maybe it was because she wasn't sure if that was true. So she said something that was true. "I love you." Now she could hear it, hear the goodbye in her words.

James ran a thumb over her cheek. "I love you." He didn't say them as goodbye, they were another plea to stay. Melody shut her eyes, her body shaking with unreleased sobs. "Melody," the soft call of her name forced her to open her eyes, to breathe even though each one came with a sharp rush of pain. James was still looking softly at her, his eyes brimming with tears of his own, though they didn't spill over as hers did. "Kiss me. Please."

Melody didn't even stop to think about saying no. She rose up on her toes, giving herself just enough extra height to do as he'd asked. Her hands slid over his face, back into his soft hair and she held him closer, the ragged thing that was her heart beating faster and more painfully than ever in her chest as she felt her kiss returned.  _I love you,_ she thought, tasting salt as they kissed. Whether it was from her tears or his Melody had no idea. She didn't care. This kiss, their last kiss was something that mattered. It hurt, but this pain was one Melody could live with. It wasn't because of cruelty, it was all due to love.

They broke apart, Melody's breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. "James," she whispered his name, unable to speak any louder. The weight was creeping up on her again and she knew it would crash fully onto her the moment she left the apartment. "Please, don't give up, with the lab-no matter what happens." It wasn't very articulate, but they were short on time. She didn't have time to beg him to keep trying, to stay strong even when he felt he had no strength left and to do everything he could to make sure Hydra never had a hold on him again. That she couldn't bear to lose him like that, that he was too important to her. There was no time to say any of that and so Melody settled for the quickest version she had open to her. 

"I won't, I promise." Melody felt James's lean into her again, a kiss against her forehead this time. "I love you." His last plea and this was one Melody couldn't answer, no matter how much she yearned to do just that.

"I love you too." _Goodbye._ And with that, Melody knew she couldn't stay like this any longer. She stepped out of James's embrace and grabbed her suitcase, resolutely keeping her gaze away from him as she walked out of the apartment. 

The door clicked shut behind her and as she turned, ready to walk down the hallway she spotted Sharon coming down the hallway, the agent was beaming at her.

"All packed and ready?" her friend asked cheerfully and Melody nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Sharon frowned at her. "Mel, you okay? You look pale."

"I didn't sleep much last night," Melody replied which was true enough. She hadn't slept much at all, though it wasn't for the reasons Sharon was probably attributing to it and that was fine by her. 

"Well," Sharon shrugged. "At least you can sleep on the plane right?"

Melody adjusted her hand on the suitcase, glad of something, anything to do to distract herself. "Maybe, depends on where I'm seated and how the flight goes. We should go."

"Yeah," Sharon agreed. "Don't want to miss your flight. I bet you've really missed West Memorial huh?"

Melody nodded again.  _I'll miss this place even more._


	34. Thirty-Four

Bucky laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The sky outside was pitch black and dotted with stars-in other words, he should have been sleeping. But he couldn't. Bucky side and rolled to his left-that side of the bed was where Melody always slept but now it was empty. 

The sight made Bucky's heart wrench painfully in his chest, an echo of what he'd felt this morning when she'd packed her suitcase and left. _It hasn't even been a day,_ he thought, shifting  onto his back, unable to look at the space where she should have been. _And I already miss you._

Bucky stared at the ceiling again, a hundred painful thoughts rolling through his head. Melody's tears as he'd asked her outright to abandon her plan, to be with him, find a way to make them work. " _No, there isn't."_   Her soft, sad, but firm voice telling him there was nothing he could say to change her mind about never returning to Wakanda-to him. The way she'd said that she would always love him, every bit as much a goodbye as a promise...He sat upright, the soft mattress no longer comfortable and the memories of their most recent farewell playing over and over again in his mind like a record.

Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, they left heavy like his bones were made of lead. He was exhausted and yet he couldn't sleep. Normally, this would've been the point he brought out the radio and tape Melody had given him, he'd have hit play on the device and fallen asleep to the sound of her singing, but he couldn't do that now. It wouldn't comfort Bucky like it usually did, it would just remind him of what he'd lost today.

And it wasn't the only thing he owned that would do it. The thought hit Bucky like a brick and against his better judgement, he opened the drawer of his nightstand. At first glance, it didn't hold anything to remind him of Melody, just socks, underwear and a handgun, but he knew better. Brushing aside the mundane items, Bucky reached into the corner of the drawer and a lead weight dropped into his stomach as he opened his palm. Glinting dimly in the starlight was his mother's ring. 

The ring he'd carried with him every time he went into the lab-the thing to remind him why he put himself through procedure after procedure and every ensuing failure that came with them. Melody's advice about having a reminder of a goal as a good way to preserve through a long haul had stuck with Bucky from the moment she'd told him the story of how she'd written the words "Melody Frasier M.D." on her arm all through medical school. He'd decided to do something along those lines too, but a bit differently. He didn't want anything attached to his name if and when he got out Hydra out of his head.

He'd wanted to change Melody's name though, he'd realized that not long after he'd seen her wearing his mother's ring. And so, each time he'd gone to the lab since, he'd had the ring in his pocket. A way to remind him that he needed to be free of Hydra before he could take that step and ask her to marry him.

That had been a long shot to begin with, but at least Bucky had possessed the hope that he could at least ask. That was gone now. 

He was still going to keep trying at the lab, he'd promised Melody he would, but he didn't think he had the strength to carry the ring anymore. Too many memories.

Bucky set the ring back in the drawer, eyes burning with tears he hadn't shed. He'd wanted Melody to stay, or at least promise she'd be back whenever she could-he'd wanted them to find a way to be together. Despite what Melody believed, that it was impossible, Bucky was not of that opinion. Maybe it was foolish, but he had thought there was still hope. That there had to be some sort of middle ground they could meet on, some way they could have been together. It was why he had tried, once when his time had truly run out, to ask her to reconsider her choice to never return to Wakanda. Melody had been firm on her choice, much to his dismay and told him no. Bucky didn't hate her for that, he couldn't for two reasons. One, though his disagreed with her, Bucky did understand her reasoning. And two, even though she'd made her choice, Bucky knew it had hurt her to do it. Despite the choice she made, one thing was still clear: Melody loved him just like he loved her. The only difference between them was she didn't think love was enough to keep them together.

He laid back against the bed, trembling as the tears he'd kept at bay when Melody had left were coming back. Bucky hadn't been able to cry in front of her, he knew this hurt her too and causing her more pain wasn't something he could handle. He'd promised Melody he'd never hurt her and Bucky had no intention of going back on that promise. He'd done that once already-though Melody herself had fought him quiet fiercely about it. But still, it didn't change how Bucky felt about it and so, when they'd said goodbye, he'd held himself together somehow, tried to assure her that he would be alright and let her go without letting her know how badly it hurt to do.

But emotions like that, Bucky had already learned couldn't be held back forever and now the grief was creeping up on him and this time, Bucky let it grab hold. He shut his eyes, tears, hot and burning like acid slithering down his face as he curled up on the bed, just trying to breathe as the full weight of what he'd lost crashed down on him like a tidal wave.

Melody was gone. She was back in New York and he would never see her again. Never hear her laugh, hold her or kiss her again. Never laugh hysterically as she attempted to cook and wound up torching the food. He'd never listen to her try and explain a surgery she'd gotten to perform, never see her eyes light up with happiness as she described each step in such enthusiasm that it was hard to be bored. He'd never hear her sing to him after a nightmare came, never see her smile at up at him again, as though he was her favorite person in the world. Like he was her hero, someone she trusted to keep her safe. She'd always told him that. That he made her feel safe. It was never lost on Bucky how weird that was, but hearing that always filled him with a sense of pride anyways. Melody had trusted him to protect her, keep her from harm and keep her secrets-and he'd loved that. Bucky had done terrible things in his life, all of which Melody knew about-and she'd still trusted him. She had still held fast to him when she was afraid, because scared as she was, her faith in him was unbreakable as steel. 

Bucky would never hear her say that again. He'd never hear her tell him that she loved him. All he had now were memories. 

And that was what played over and over in his mind as he laid, crying silently in bed. Memories of Melody and their time together. It wasn't enough, but it was all he had now and it wasn't enough.


	35. Thirty-Five

Melody had never really liked plane rides, but she decided they were even worse when you couldn't stop crying during the flight. For the sake of the other passengers, Melody willed herself to be silent as she looked out at the sky, watching it go from bright daylight to darkness as they made the trip from Wakanda to New York. She'd felt eyes the eyes of her fellow passenger next to her as they flew, but thankfully, the young man said nothing to her for which she was grateful. Though she knew that she had made the logical choice, it didn't dull the pain that came with making it. She and James lived in two different worlds that were miles away from each other, literally and metaphorically. There was no way to make them work  out. But even so, that knowledge didn't take away the pain.

All in all, as Melody left the plane, no longer crying, but she'd glimpsed herself in the dark windows, her eyes were red and puffy, both from lack of sleep and constant crying. For how tired she was, she also managed to be thankful, inwardly that she would have a few days to adjust to New York time before returning to work. Hopefully that would be enough time to cry herself out and then, when it was time to return to work, she'd actually look like a human being. 

She made her way through the airport in a daze, ready to grab her luggage, get out and hail a cab back to her apartment, however, as Melody made her way towards the exit, all plans of hailing a taxi vanished from her mind and her weariness faded as though she'd just downed an entire glass of espresso. 

Derrick was waiting at the ground floor, holding a paper sign that read "Mel Frasier" and he  was smiling at her. Despite her tiredness and her grief, Melody felt a smile come to her face. She hadn't expected any sort of welcome when she got back, least of all from him. She hadn't spoken to him before she'd left, not after that phone call from Sharon that had brought her to Wakanda.

"What are you doing here?" Melody asked as she approached him and Derrick smiled at her. His curly hair was combed back, like usual, but it was a bit messy, probably from wearing scrub caps. His smile, as always, was as warm, just like snuggling under a quilt. 

"Hello to you too," he said and she blushed and Derrick only laughed. "I thought you might need a ride home."

"You didn't have to do that," she told him and he merely shrugged.

"I know." Derrick's smile got a bit smaller, but it even lost an once of it's warmth. "If you'd rather not have to spend a twenty minute drive with me I can call a cab for you." The gesture sent a soft ripple of warmth through Melody's chest. He was remembering, she knew, the conversation they'd had the day before she'd left for Wakanda, the day he'd begged for a few minutes to talk and that he'd leave her be afterwards if that was what she wanted. Apparently, Derrick thought that might be possible.

Truthfully, Melody wouldn't have minded a little more time alone. The weight of being under her secrets again, the pained expression on James's face as they'd said goodbye for the last time all pained her like physical blows. She didn't want anyone to be around to see that. And yet... _"Live better,"_ she heard James's voice in her mind, the promise she'd made to him, that she would try to do that. Try to really live, rather than just exist as she'd done for so long. She had to do that, even if she was afraid. She had to live. She owed James that much. She owed herself that much. She had fought so hard to stay alive, she needed to live a real life if she wanted that struggle to mean something. If she wanted her life to be worth anything.

Melody smiled tiredly at Derrick. "I'd love a ride."

***

The ride to her apartment was quiet, the only real sound being that of the jazz CD, Derrick loved pouring from the stereo and the sounds of New York city outside the car. Melody wasn't so fond of jazz, but she loved the sounds of the city. It had been something she'd missed while she was in Wakanka, it had been a bit hard to sleep because it was so quiet there. However, the sound of James's heartbeat and his arm around her had been a small price to pay indeed...

 _Don't think about him,_   Melody thought firmly to herself, feeling tears well up in her eyes. It's over _. Dwelling on that won't change it._ She'd made her choice and all choices had consequences and her choice to stay away from Wakanda meant that James, important to her as he was, was now part of her past. There was no way she could alleviate that consequence, so Melody knew it was best to start learning to live with it. Her heart was broken now, as it had been two years ago, when James had first left her. The pain had been just like it was now, not so unbearable an agony that she couldn't move, but it hurt all the same. It was constant, a throbbing sensation at all times and spiking sharply when memories came to her, or realizations that what she'd had with James was gone from her now and she'd never get them back. 

But time had eventually dulled the sting and Melody knew the same would happen again. A portion of her heart would always belong to him, but that was the nature of love, she was learning. It was possible to love two people at the same time. Derrick had taught her that.

Already, Melody was recalling that one night in his apartment, the night she'd learned that lesson from his experience. 

***

 _"This is her?" Melody_   _asked as she took off her heavy coat. Winter had hit New York fully now and the world outside was covered in ice and snow. Event the short walk from the hospital had left her feeling chilled down to her bones. She neared the photo on the fireplace mantle slowly, meeting the glossy brown eyes of the woman in the photograph._

_She was very pretty, with long, dark red hair and a large, white smile as she looked at the camera. She was didn't look much younger than Melody herself, maybe late twenties at the oldest. Melody had no doubt who she was, but she wanted to hear Derrick confirm it for certain._

_"Audrey," he muttered, grabbing the photograph and smiling fondly at it. "This was taken a year before the diagnoses."_

_Melody nodded. Breast cancer had stolen Audrey too soon from the world. Not a year after she was given the horrible news. Derrick had told her as much when they'd first begun dating but she'd never seen a photo of his deceased wife before now. "She's beautiful."_

_"She was." Derrick agreed softly as he set the photograph back on the mantle. The gas fire behind the glass of the electric fireplace cast an orange light onto his face and  faint shadows along the wall, even with the light fixture overhead lighting up the space as well._

_Melody  smiled uncertainly. She had no idea what to say. She'd only encountered one untimely death in her life and she'd caused it. She had no idea what to say to comfort Derrick now. She was about to make some well-meaning, but probably useless comment when he spoke up and spared her that._

_"Mel?"_

_"Yes?"_

_Derrick looked at her, wearing his smile that was even warmer than the glow of the flames. "I need to be honest with you, Audrey, I still love her."_

_Melody nodded. "I understand." This was something she could understand well. It had been almost a year since James had left her, and she still loved him as dearly now as she had then._

_"No," he shook his head. "I don't think you do." He sighed and looked away from a moment, his gaze flickering to the photo of his wife. "See, when you get married you always start looking to the future. You think about the house you want to buy, the place where your kids will run in the yard with the dog and what you'll do to celebrate your tenth wedding anniversary and when Audrey died, I stopped thinking about the future. I just thought about getting through each day. I couldn't see a future without her in it." His blue eyes flickered to her face now, away from the photo. "I don't know when I stopped doing that, but I think it was when I met you. I'm thinking about the future again."_

_Melody's heart skipped in her chest. "What?"_

_Derrick must have seen the fear on her face. "Nothing crazy, I just mean, for instance, Christmas is coming up. I've started thinking about what I want to get you, what we could do together to celebrate. If we should stay here or go to my parents, they'd love to meet you." He smiled at her. "I'm looking at the future again Mel, and I want you to be in it."_ _He neared her then,_ _his hand sliding around her waist and holding her gently._ _The contact felt nice, comforting like a quilt._  

 _"Why are you telling me this?" Melody asked._ _"If this is asking me to meet your parents, I think I'd like that. I haven't had a proper Christmas in a long time."  About eight years to be exact. Sharon had brought her along to some Christmas celebrations but recently, neither of their jobs had allowed them time to go and celebrate properly._

_"No," Derrick said with a shake of his head. "Though I'm glad to hear you want to meet my parents." One of his hands trailed up her side, the warmth of his fingers cutting through the fabric of her black sweater. "I'm telling you this because I want to be straight with you." He sighed and his warm hand curled around her face. "I'm falling in love with you Mel."_

_"What?" the word tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it and Derick laughed._

_"I love you," he said simply. "But I'll always love Audrey too, she's part of me. Can you handle that?"_

You don't love me, _Melody thought, wanting to smile even though fear was  pressing on her chest and making her ribs crack._ You love who you think I am. _She didn't say that though, she wasn't ready to even try and broach that topic with Sharon, let alone Derrick. But maybe one day I will be, she thought as she looked at his warm smile and matching eyes. Derrick was a good man. Easy to like and maybe one day, she'd love him back-and maybe they could help each other. Audrey was Derrick's past and he loved her. The same way she loved James. Maybe they could help each other move on with their lives._

_"She was your wife," Melody said at last. "Of course you love her."_

_"And I love you," Derrick interjected and Melody smiled though she felt that fear creep over her again._ Would you say that if you knew who I really am? If you knew what I was really capable of? _James's voice echoed back in her mind, "live better" letting herself love, opening up was part of that request. Derrick was a good man. She wasn't ready to open up fully now, but she needed to give it, give them the time and maybe she would be ready to come clean about what happened to her._

_"Then I'm very lucky," Melody decided, smiling up at him. "And I think I could love you very much one day." She looked away a moment, blushing. "I'm sorry, I know that might not be exactly what you want to hear when you tell someone you love them."_

_Derrick smiled at her. "No, but now, I know if you say it, it'll be because you mean it." He leaned in, eyes closing and Melody felt herself doing the same as their lips met. His kisses where just like him, warm and gentle._

_***_

The memory flickered to a halt in Melody's mind as the car lurched to a stop and the gears clicked into park. "We're here," Derrick's soothing voice told her and Melody looked outside the window to the street-lamp lit world outside. Sure enough, the looming brick building that housed her apartment was right outside.

"Thank you," she said, "for bringing me home."

"You're very welcome." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead again, no longer smiling. Melody knew Derrick well enough to know he was working a problem out. "Mel, about what I said, before you left on your vacation. I never got an answer."

Melody sunk back into her seat. Of course they'd wound up here. She'd been expecting it, but not this soon. But then again, it did make sense, patient as Derrick was, waiting almost a month for an answer to a question like that was quiet a long time. Her broken heart twanged in her chest, reminding her as she looked into his blue eyes that they were just a bit lighter than James's...They weren't right, they weren't the eyes of the man she loved. That smile, nice and warm as it was, wasn't the one who could put a stop to the pain she was feeling now.

Melody again, recalled the night Derrick had told her he loved her, the night he'd told her about Audrey and her. The night she'd learned another thing about love that had been previously unknown to her. _I'll always love James,_ she thought to herself. _But he's my past. He has to be. He and I don't have a future. But you and I...we could._ Derrick would never be James, but Melody knew, from their past, that she could be happy with him. Not the same way it was with James, but still, happy nonetheless, just a different sort. If she let it happen, maybe it would be enough.

"Do you want to come up?" she asked at last. "I think we need to talk."

Derrick regarded her with wide eyes for a moment, but it faded and his smile replaced it. "Sure."


	36. Thirty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates today! Enjoy!

"Mind your step," she warned Derrick as she kicked aside her work sneakers from the doorway. Melody had gone off to Wakanda in a hurry after Sharon had called and as a result, had not been able to tidy up her apartment before leaving. So, as a result, the space was more untidy than normal. Her glass coffee table still was strewn with last month's medical journals and in the kitchen, Melody could just glimpse a few coffee mugs resting in the sink. "Sorry about the mess," she apologized.

"This is a mess?" Derrick asked, staring at the space. 

Melody shrugged off her coat. "By my usual standards it is."

"You have low standards for messy," he shrugged off his coat as well and reached out with one hand to take hers. Melody handed it off without comment and he hung them up on the wall. "You want some coffee? I know it's a bit late, but..." Derrick grinned at her and Melody smiled back, even with how tired she was. Coffee sounded like a very good idea. 

He took her smile as confirmation and began rummaging around in the kitchen while Melody sat down on the couch, her eyes wandering over the familiar space. Her degrees framed on the wall, the bookshelf underneath it containing thick, heavy medical books. The Hippocratic Oath, written in calligraphy, the frame barely visible in the hallway which led back to her bathroom at the master bed room. Nothing about the place had changed, but it didn't bring much comfort to Melody anymore. She wasn't sure if it was because she was so tired or because she was so emotionally worn out.

"Here," Derrick returned to her and handed her a chipped blue mug filled with steaming black liquid. 

"Thanks," she took a sip, the liquid hot, but not scalding. Derrick always had, had a talent for getting the perfect temperature. 

"Your welcome," he took a sip out of his own cup. For a few minutes they said nothing, the only sound was that of the city outside and Melody sipping coffee. When some of the weariness began to leave her body, she took a deep breath and broke the silence.

"We need to talk," she said, echoing the words she'd used outside.

"Are we going to talk about us, or what made you cry?"

Melody winced, recalling the sight of her red sclera-a dead giveaway to tears. "Both, I guess." She wasn't going to tell Derrick everything, but she could tell him part of the truth. He at least deserved to know that much.

"When I was away, I ran into Solider Boy."

"Your ex," Derrick replied, nodding. He apparently remembered the name from when they'd first begun dating and going through the typical exchange of previous relationships. "In Wakanda?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "It was a surprise, seeing him again because I hadn't expected to." That wasn't a complete lie, when she and James had said goodbye two years previously, Melody had not expected to see him again afterwards.

"He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No!" Melody nearly shouted, shaking her head at the same time, trying to get her voice back under control. James would never hurt her. What had happened in the lab didn't count, he hadn't been himself then. "No, he didn't hurt me, but..." She looked down into her half-empty coffee, breathing hard as tears filled into her eyes again. "Seeing him again," she said past the lump forming in her throat. The same one she'd left when she'd said goodbye to James again. "It just.." Melody swallowed hard. "It was just very hard, to see him again." She hadn't told Derrick much about James past that he was an ex-solider who she'd been involved with for a few months.

"Did he hurt you?" 

"No!" Melody nearly shouted, watching as Derrick leaned away from her, shock written all over his face. She didn't blame him, to her memory, Derrick had never heard her shout. "No, no, he didn't hurt me. He'd never do that." Melody knew that the same way she knew how to do a baseball stich. James had never hurt her and he never would. The incident in the lab didn't count. He hadn't been himself. He'd been a machine  others had programed to do evil. "No, it wasn't like that at all. It was different."

"Different how?"

Melody sighed, her chest constricting painfully. She ran her index finger over the rim of her cup, trying to find the words to explain this to Derrick. "He and I weren't together very long, but there was a lot of love there. I don't even know how it happened, I just spent so much time with him and one day I realized that I loved him. Lucky for me, he felt the same way."

"You never told me that," Derrick's voice was soft and Melody winced at it. First she'd hurt James and now Derrick. Fractures pieces of her heart clawed their way up her throat. Despite her high pain tolerance, she feared in that moment that she might cry out from the feeling.

"The wounds were still a bit raw then," she said which was true enough. James had only been gone three months  when she'd first met Derrick. 

"Breakups are tough," he agreed. 

"It wasn't like that either."

"What?"

"He and I didn't break up because one of us stopped loving the other," Melody couldn't bring herself to say James's name out loud. She feared that would be too much, that it would break the fragile hold she had on herself. "We broke up because, in spite of what we felt, we existed in two different worlds. My life was here in New York, his was wherever Special Forces sent him." She figured Captain America counted as some sort of special forces, technically anyways. "We couldn't work out and we both knew it, so we said goodbye. Seeing him again, it just reminded me of that. That we'd loved each other and couldn't be together."

There was a hushing sound as Derrick moved closer. Melody felt his warm hand grabbed hers and tug it gently off the mug. "Hey," she looked up at him and sure enough, she saw that warm smile on his face. "It's okay to be sad about that. Trust me, there are few things in the world as painful as knowing you both love each other and knowing it's not enough to keep you together."

Melody smiled back at him, but there was no happiness in it. _You would know,_ she thought, her mind flashing to Audrey. "I'd say that was a ten." Doctors always asked patients to rate their pains on scales from one to ten, one being least painful, ten being the most. James was her ten. "But what I'm trying to get at with all this...Well," she looked away from Derrick, a blush coming to her face. "I couldn't see a future with him, " _no matter how much I wished I could,_ she added silently in her mind. Melody had wanted a future with James so badly it caused her psychosomatic symptoms, but just wanting that didn't change how it wasn't possible.  "But I can see one with you and you...you add value to my life Derrick. And I know that's not the most romantic thing to say and I know it sounds stupid even, but you know me. I'm Doctor Freezer for fuck's sake, I don't really do feelings that well and-."

Derrick yanked her towards him, Melody lost her grip on her empty mug which shattered onto the floor. She could hear the crash, but it was something she was only dimly aware of. Derrick was kissing her. Not forcefully, but gently, the taste of coffee and creamer on his lips. He broke away from her before Melody could do more than shut her eyes and there was a deep sigh as he caught his breath.

"I know what you're trying to say Mel." He shifted again, drawing her into an embrace and Melody found herself resting her head on his chest, hearing the steady pulse of his heart underneath the blue sweater he was wearing. "That's the same thing I felt on our first date. Like maybe I could be happy again, even if Audrey was gone."

Melody sighed. "Exactly." She was glad Derrick was smart enough to unravel her words and pull meaning from them. Expressing feelings had never been a strength of hers, not by a long shot. 

"It's okay if you still love him," Derrick continued, his breath tickling her hair. "Solider Boy changed you-not everyone you meet in your life will do that. He's always going to be part of you and that's okay. I'm okay with that."

"You are?" She wasn't able to keep the surprise out of her voice and she heard Derrick laugh.

"Of course, I never met the guy, but he must have been an extraordinary person-you loved him after all." _He is extraordinary,_ Melody thought. His strength and compassion where unrivaled in Melody's book and always would be. Even Derrick, kind as he was, could not compete with James in that field. James had lived through indescribable things-and was still going. He wasn't beat down by them, he was holding strong, still moving and working towards something better. Melody didn't know anyone that strong-including herself. She doubted she could've lived through what he had and still have the strength to get out of bed in the morning. 

Derrick began to stroke her hair and continued. "It's okay if some part of you always loves him-I'd be worried if it wasn't like that. People rarely come into your life that change like Solider Boy did to you, just being able to let that go isn't...normal. I know Doctor Prescott will tell you otherwise," he laughed softly, no doubt thinking of their infamous Chief of Surgery. "But it's okay to be human."

Melody felt a tear slide down her face. How she had any left she didn't know but this single tear burned just as badly the previous ones she'd cried on the plane. "Why does it have to hurt so much?" She asked softly, fingers clawing into his sweater as she fought back the grief that was sweeping over her again.

"Only God knows the answer," Derrick replied softly, still stroking her hair. "If you need to cry right now it's okay.  I'll hold you all night if you want me to. And when you're ready to smile again, I'll be there too."

Melody laughed in spite of herself. Derrick wouldn't hold her all night. He was too restless a sleeper for that. James on the other hand- _No!_ Melody grabbed hold of the memory that was forcing it's way out and locked it down. If she thought about their nights together in that house, how it felt she'd start sobbing and never regain control. She focused on her breathing, focused on the feeling of Derrick's warm hands running across her hair.

"I don't know how long that'll be," she said into his chest. Melody would never be able to tell Derrick everything about James, she couldn't. It would put him at risk and she would never do that. But she was going to be as honest with her fellow doctor as she could. She didn't know when the agony would stop, when she could start thinking about James without having her heart ripped out and he deserved to know that. Derrick deserved to know, for the most part what he was coming back to if he decided he wanted that.  "I didn't expect to feel all this again," a lie, but a necessary one. 

"It's okay," Derrick said soothingly. "We can take things slowly and see what happens. There's no rush right now Mel. We don't have to get back together right now, we can test the waters, move comfortably and just see where time takes us. I'm willing to do that if it's what you want."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Like I told you," Derrick said and she felt the soft brush of his lips on the top of her head. "I love you-and I think we could be very happy together. I don't want to ruin that by demanding more of you than you're ready to give. That's what I did last time and I'm sorry."

Melody sniffled a little. She knew what "last time meant". "It wasn't your fault, not entirely anyways." Derrick wasn't without blame for what happened last Valentine's Day, but he wasn't entirely at fault either. "I'm not very good at this, I'm not good at showing people I care."

"But you do," he said softly. "I know you do. You wouldn't have tried to stop me from leaving if you hadn't cared. And if I'd been smarter I would've realized that. I've seen you in surgery Mel, when there's nothing to be done to make the situation better, when you've done all you can do, you don't keep going. You step back because you know it's over. But that night, you didn't do that. You tried to fight for me even though I was dead set on going."

Melody sat upright, sniffling a little and wiping her eyes. "I never thought of it like that. I just didn't want you to go, I wanted you to know that I was trying to be...better for you."

Derrick brushed some hair away that had stuck to her damp face. "I can see that now, it took me a while, but I got there in the end." His warm had curled around her face. "I need to go, I have to work in the morning-but is it too much to think I might be able to come back here tomorrow and make you dinner?"

Melody smiled and placed her hand over his. "I'd like that."

"Great," Derrick beamed. "How does Italian sound?"

"Excellent," Melody said, noting he'd listed her favorite food. Derrick stood up and Melody followed suit, walking him to the door. As he pulled on his coat, he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered in her ear. "Sleep tight."

"Goodnight," she whispered back as he left. When the door clicked shut behind him, Melody reached forward and locked the door. _I can do this,_ she thought as she walked back towards her room, tears welling in her eyes again. _I can take things slow, see what happens with Derrick._ She hadn't been lying to him when she told him that she could see a future with him. Melody could see herself loving Derrick one day, not the way she'd loved James, that was impossible, but still, love nonetheless, real love and maybe, in time, that would be enough. Maybe she'd reach the point Derrick had, a place where she could still love James, but it wouldn't hurt. A place where she could move on with someone else.

Melody wasn't sure where that future was, but as she crawled into bed, clutching the star necklace James had somehow sent to her for her thirty-first birthday she figured the time was a ways away yet. Tears poured down her face as she laid on the bed. The mattress was too big without James next to her, her waist was missing the pressure of his arm and without it she struggled, despite her tired state to get comfortable and at some point, the tiredness won as she cried herself to sleep, the points of the star digging into her palm. 


	37. Thirty-Seven

Whoever said words will never hurt you was a fucking idiot. Bucky decided this as he came to, his world made up of only shapes and shadows. His memory was a bit blank, but as Steve's concerned and grim face came into view, Bucky didn't need his memories to tell him what happened.

They'd tried again. They'd failed again.

"What'd I do?" Bucky asked, his voice sounding more like a croak.

"Nothing," Steve said instantly. "The restraints held this time."

"Great," Bucky thought, finally noticing the heavy, tight straps across his legs and arm. "Is anyone going to free me at some point?"

Steve blinked. "We wanted to wait until you were fully awake," he said even as he stood up and began undoing the restraints. "You where still fighting pretty hard, even after they put you out."

"What?" The straps slipped off his legs and Bucky groaned, swinging his legs over the edge of the stiff bed. Pins and needles were moving up and down his legs like a colony of ants. Part of him wondered if it was Scott's idea of a joke, but he was too tired to move.

"Well," said Steve as he freed Bucky's arm. "I just think you were having another nightmare, but the doctors wanted to play things on the safe side."

"Nightmare?" Bucky echoed. "What makes you say that?" Normally, when they knocked him out with drugs he didn't dream. The sleep the medicine put him in was too deep for that.

"Well," Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "You were talking about the Nightingale again. You only do that when you have nightmares."

Bucky's heart dropped into his stomach. He had been dreaming and he didn't even remember it. Well at least he didn't remember it yet. His memories were always fuzzy at first, when he came out of brainwashing. They took a few hours to fully come back. Whatever his dream had been about, it had involved Melody.

"You remember it?"

"No." Bucky leaned back against the wall, feeling sick. Melody had only been gone for a week, but it didn't feel like it. Any moment, he half expected to see her walking through the door and requesting his chart. "I don't remember. Not yet anyway. My mind is still fuzzy."

Steve sat down next to him and leaned back against the wall as well. "We'll get it next time Buck."

"Yeah," he groaned, head throbbing hotly as he shut his eyes. The beeping of the machines didn't help either. Bucky hadn't noticed them at first, but now that he had, they were almost unbearable. 

"Do you dream about her often? The Nightingale?

Bucky opened one eye to look at Steve. "I never said they were a woman." Had Steve noticed something? Put the pieces together about him and Melody? The thought made Bucky feel cold. The very last thing he wanted to do was discuss her, with Steve or anyone else. 

Steve shrugged. "It was just a guess, I don't think many guys would get a name like that."

Bucky's panic subsided a moment. "That's fair."

"So, do you?"

"Do I what?" Bucky asked, deciding to play dumb. He couldn't bear to talk about Melody-even if Steve didn't know that was who they were discussing. Bucky missed her so much. Not every moment of every day-it wasn't that constant. There were things he'd done without Melody, even when she was in the base. Like training with Steve for instance, she was never around for that. But even those moments didn't last forever and as Bucky made his way back to his apartment, that pain would come back. That sharp, pinching pain that reminded him that the apartment was empty now. That when he got back, there would be no one to ask about what he'd done. Those moments where she was supposed to be there, those were the hardest to deal with.

"Do you dream about her often? The Nightingale?"

Bucky grit his teeth. No one else ever called Melody that. The way Steve bandied about the phrase grated on his nerves. Steve talked like it was nothing, like it meant nothing but he was so wrong. "No. Steve, please stop talking about it. I don't want to talk about this." 

"Alright."

"Really?" Bucky said before he could stop himself. "You're letting it go that easily?"

"Try not to look so surprised," Steve said with a brief grin. 

"Giving up isn't your usual style." Bucky commented, grinning himself though at the moment he didn't much feel like smiling.

"It's not giving up," Steve shot back, crossing his arms. "It's just...letting you come to me, talk about the Nightingale or whatever else on your terms."

 _Enjoy disappointment, I'll never talk to you about the Nightingale._ Melody had asked him not to say anything about their relationship, or rather their _previous_ relationship to Steve or anyone. The past-tense phrasing sent a stinging sensation through Bucky's chest and he shut his eyes again, hoping the gesture would looked more tired than pained. 

"You alright?" 

 _Damn it."_ Fine, just tired and sore." Both of which were very true, though the dull aches radiating through his body were nothing compared to the empty feeling in his chest. "Long day."

"We'll get it next time," Steve said and his voice rang with so much certainty. For a moment, Bucky almost believed it. That was why he'd followed him all those years ago, back before Hydra and before he'd become the Winter Solider. Bucky hadn't been following Captain America, he'd been following the scrawny kid from Brooklyn who had so much conviction, who fought so hard to do what he thought was right, consequences be damned. Captain America was just a symbol, Steve Rogers was the man you respected and trusted enough to follow.

"It won't be long now," Steve continued, his voice still carrying that completely faithful strength. "Just hang in there a little while longer."

There was a bit of a pleading edge to his voice and Bucky didn't need Wanda's powers to know what was going on in Steve's head. He was afraid. "I'm not going to give up."

"Really?" Bucky opened one eye, catching Steve's puzzled expression and his suddenly very alert, almost tense posture. He guessed it was the same one he wore when Steve said he wasn't going to push him about the Nightingale. 

"Yeah, really."

"Huh," Steve slouched against the wall. 

"Don't look so surprised."

"Hard not to be," his friend muttered. "This is what? The seventy first-?"

"Seventy two actually. This is failure number seventy two." Bucky was still keeping track in his journal.  If and when this was over, he wanted to remember how long it had taken to reach that point.

"Whatever, point being is you threw in the towel once already. Why the change of heart?"

 _Because I can't live like this forever. Sooner or later someone will find me and if this stuff is still in my head I could really hurt people again. I could kill them again. I could hurt you. I promised Melody I wouldn't give up, I can't break my promise. I can't forget who I am again. I can't forget what's important to me._ Bucky knew at least, if someone did find him again, that not all of his worst nightmares would come to pass. Melody, at least would be safe. But even with that, he feared forgetting her. The pain he felt now, knowing she was gone from his life was awful, but Bucky wanted that. It meant he had his memories, it meant he knew who she was and what she meant to him. It meant that they'd been real, that they'd really loved each other.  He didn't want to lose that anymore than he wanted to fight Steve again. It was part of him now. She was part of him and Bucky knew with unsettling certainty that she always would be. 

He couldn't tell Steve that though, so he settled for part of a larger truth.

"Because I'm a ticking time bomb if I stay as is. I'd hurt people again, maybe even people I love. I can't do that again. I _won't_ be that again."

"No you won't," Steve agreed, clapping Bucky on his shoulder. His friend smiled, content for a moment before he opened his mouth again. "What'd she say to you anyways? Mel, when she showed up she said she'd talk to you about the lab, what'd she say?"

 _Shit._ Bucky closed his eyes again, feeling that empty place in his chest twist, reminding him of the heart that had been there a week before. "She just asked if I was okay living like this, and the more I thought about her question, the more I realized I wasn't." A bold-faced lie, but Bucky couldn't tell Steve the truth, nor could he tell him a half-truth. And so one option had been left to him and he opted for a phrase that would've sounded the most like Melody, or at least the version of her that Steve knew. 

"She's a smart girl."

"She's brilliant," Bucky corrected even as he sighed, wincing as memories started playing in the back of his mind. "You mind keeping it down for a bit? I'm exhausted."

"Course," Steve muttered and Bucky rested his hand over his chest, trying to drift back to sleep. Though his mind was mostly cleared of the sedatives, he still felt them in his system and right now, he welcomed sleep. At least then, the odds were good he wouldn't have to remember Melody. Right now, with the combination of another failure and how much he missed her, Bucky only had so much strength left in him. Melody was gone and out of his life, but the lab wasn't Hydra's brainwashing wasn't and he knew what he needed to work on. And so, he let himself drift off, reaching a place where Melody and her ghost were unlikely to follow.


	38. Thirty-Eight

Melody's life settled back into it's usual rhythm within her first few weeks home from Wakanda. She was back at West Memorial, running the ER and teaching residents and interns alike and marveling at the many stupid ways people managed to get injured. Her most recent case, two drunk teenagers who'd managed to break both their legs after attempting daredevil jumps over a shallow pond near their house was a prime example of that and now, even hours after she'd gotten out of the ER, she was still marveling at how stupid the whole situation was.

"They're kids Mel," Sharon said as she bolstered around the kitchen, banging pots and pans onto the stove as she started to prepare dinner. Sharon had returned from Wakanda last week and they'd resumed their weekly routine of having dinner together. Usually, this meant Sharon showed up at Melody's apartment and made dinner while Melody watched. She had offered to help this time, but apparently Sharon wasn't willing to take the risk.

"Being young does not excuse that level of idiocy. I was never that stupid when I was seventeen."

"You were almost done with your bachelor's degree when you were seventeen." Sharon reminded her, opening the fridge and grabbing the steaks Melody had purchased the day before. The paper wrappings were soaked with red. "Oh, New York Strip?" Sharon's eyes sparkled. "You spoil me!"

"I get to eat it too remember?" Melody said but she smiled in spite of herself. She knew Sharon's' favorite meal was steak, but that she seldom got the chance to enjoy it-her salary was fairly modest compared to Melody's. For Sharon, a steak dinner was an indulgence, for Melody, it was a drop of water in a bucket.

Sharon set the steak down on the counter and turned on the burner. A blue-orange flame flared to life and began to heat the cast iron pan. Grabbing a knife from her already assembled array of kitchen tools, she sliced off a  generous measure of butter from the stick and tossed it into the plan where it hissed and melted.

"You know that's bad for you right?"

"It adds taste," Sharon replied even as she tossed in sprigs of rosemary and turned to grab the meat cleaver. 

"It's a heart attack in a pan." Melody had seen way too many cardio patients with poor diets. She couldn't help but point it out to Sharon. 

"That's why I have you," the agent replied without missing a beat. She swung the cleaver down onto a clove of garlic, making the a harsh banging noise against the countertop. "You'll fix me up in no time right?"

"I'm not in cardio, I'm in trauma." She had never once considered cardio for a specialty. It was bad enough to carry John's last name around with her everywhere she went. Carrying his specialty along with it would have made it ten times worse. 

"Then you'll make sure I pick the best damn cardio surgeon there is when the time comes," Sharon said as she grabbed a tongs from the drawer. "Life is too short to eat bland food Mel." She began searing the steaks in the hot pan and for a while, there was no sound between them, save that of cooking food.

When she was done with that, Sharon opened the oven (which she had already preheated) and stuck the pan inside. "There, now we have to wait a bit. Hope you're not too hungry for that?"

"No," Melody shook her head. "Derrick brought me lunch today." True to what they'd discussed the night she returned to New York, they had begun to spend time together once more, both in and out of work. 

Sharon's eyes sparkled. "Oh? So you guys are together again?" 

Melody's stomach twisted. "Not yet, we're just...taking it slow."

"What's that mean? No sex?"

"Sharon!" Her face flamed and Sharon merely laughed at the reaction. Melody groaned and put her head in her hands. Miranda had asked her the same question a few days ago and she was sick of answering. "It means," she said tightly, "that were spending time together but we're not a couple, not yet anyways."

"What's holding you back? I thought you liked this guy."  Sharon strode over to a brown paper bag she'd brought with her. Melody already had a guess at what it was given the shape.

"I don't drink," she reminded her friend. Sharon ignored this and pulled out what looked like a wine bottle.

"I know, that's why I brought sparkling grape juice," she grabbed two glasses from the cupboard overhead and set them on the counter. "So," she twisted off the cap and there was a sharp hissing sound. "What's stopping you from getting back together with Derrick?"

 _I'm still in love with James,_ she thought as she took a glass of fizzing clear liquid from Sharon. That was the biggest reason. Even now, almost a month since she'd been back, just thinking his name tore at the wounds in her heart. She couldn't tell Sharon that though, there was no point in bringing that up when it was already over. So she settled for a different truth. "He and I, we're really different."

"You're both surgeons," Sharon pointed out, sipping her own drink. Why she'd opted to go non-alcoholic for the night Melody wasn't sure. Maybe she was on call. "How different can you be?"

"Very," Melody replied flatly, taking a sip of her own drink. It was fairly sweet and tickled as it went down her throat. "He's a Peds surgeon for one, I'm in trauma."

"That's not a big difference."

"He's good with people, adults and children alike and I've never really had luck with either group."

"That's because they don't have the chance to get to know you better. It sounds to me like your fishing here Mel."

"I'm not," she said flatly. "He's a good person. I'm not." Derrick couldn't even kill a spider, Melody had killed a man while he slept. That was a pretty big difference between them, an insight into who they were as people and it made them very different. 

"Hey-," she began to object instantly, but Melody cut her off. 

"I'm not saying I'm an evil mastermind," _though I'm got more than enough darkness in my soul for it._ "I'm just saying..." Melody blew out a long breath, unsure of how to really explain this to Sharon. No one really got it, not unless they were surgeons themselves. "You know how many types of surgeon's there are?"

Sharon raised her eyebrows. "Please tell me that's a trick question. There are what, ten, twelve?"

"Fourteen, but that's only if we're talking about recognized  specialties." 

"Then what are we talking about?"

"Well, across all specialties, you're going to find three types of surgeons. The most common one is a surgeon who's like Derrick. They're good surgeons, but they're nothing special either. They do their job well, but that's all they can do, that is, they won't make any revolutionary changes to the field. But they're also good people. The kind of people who will stop by an elderly patients room to check on them every day their in the hospital because they don't have family nearby. Then, a less common surgeon is one like me. I'm a great surgeon, but I'm not a good person. I'll change my field someday and already, we both know I've done things most other surgeons can't do because they lack my skill and my grace under pressure."

Sharon gave her a dry smile, no doubt thinking of the time she'd shown up half dead on Melody's doorstep. Or perhaps thinking of Miranda Richards and how Melody had delivered her baby in a museum without formal training on the procedure. 

"But I'm not a good person. I'm blunt, I don't tolerate mistakes well and I've even humiliated people when they're wrong just because I could."

"Hey, that guy deserved it," Sharon butted in as she ducked to check on the steak in the oven. "Treating you rudely because you were a woman? He deserved to get sent on that wild goose chase for Doctor Freezer." 

"That _was_ satisfying," Melody admitted, recalling his bug-eyed expression when he discovered the doctor he'd been looking for was the same one he'd dismissed all day. "But if I were a better person, like Derrick for instance, I would've risen above it and given him the chance to help me on that surgery. But I didn't."

Sharon shrugged. "I still say that was the right thing. Who knows? Maybe he learned an important lesson that day."

"Maybe," but Melody doubted it. Doctor Fredrickson was much like her-a great surgeon, but not a good man. People like that, she knew from experience, did not change easily.

"What's the third type of surgeon?" Sharon asked, fixing her with an interested look. "The ones who have no place in an OR?"

"No, those people don't even deserve to be called surgeons." Melody crossed her arms, a smile coming to her face as she thought of the final surgeon that existed-the rarest type of all. "The third type of surgeon is also the least common. These surgeons are great, but they're good too. They get to be both."

"Have you ever met one of those?"

Melody nodded, smiling still. "Yes, but up until two days ago, I didn't know it."

"Explain?"

"One of my residents, Tucker Jones, do you remember him?"

"The one you torment because you think he'll be a trauma surgeon? How could I forget? I say a prayer for that kid every night." Sharon grinned. "You think he'll be the third type of surgeon?"

"I know he will be."

Sharon blinked, surprised Melody didn't blame her, it was rare she praised one of her students this much. "What made you decide that?"

"I've already seen his prowess with my specialty," she said. "He's smart, he can think ten steps ahead of what he's doing and act simultaneously. That can't be taught. Jones will be a great trauma surgeon one day, provided he keeps going the way he is now."

"And what made you decide he'll be good too?"

"Two days ago, a family came into the hospital, bad car crash. The parents were okay, but their son, a five year old boy was hurt pretty badly." Melody's stomach twisted, recalling the small, bloodied, broken body. "Derrick and I took the case and I invited Jones to scrub in once the kid was ready for surgery. He turned me down."

"What?" Sharon looked surprised again, not that Melody blamed her. Sharon wasn't a surgeon herself, but they had spent so much time together over the years that she knew that a surgeon passing on a chance to perform at operation was quite abnormal.

"He turned me down, and I was puzzled enough to ask why. He told me that the kid's mom, she was sort of hysterical, thinking about how scared her son was. She begged to stay with him when Jones was updating her about what we were going to do and of course that isn't allowed. So when he came to the OR, he asked if he could hold the boy's hand instead of assisting Derrick and I."

Sharon smiled now herself. "That's...really kind of him."

"It is," Melody agreed. "And that was when I realized the sort of surgeon he'd be. Jones is going to be the best of all of us, assuming he keeps up with his training the way he has so far. And Sharon?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever tell him-or anyone I work with-that I told you this."

"Why not?"

"The _last_ thing I want is for Jones to hear that and have it go to his head. He could be a great surgeon one day, I don't want to spoil that by building him up too soon. He still has a lot he needs to learn and if he gets cocky he will mess up majorly and throw off his career for good."

"You can mess  up badly and still become a surgeon."

"Without a doubt, but if he gets built up and then majorly screws up that's going to be one hell of a fall. It might crush his confidence for good and then he'll never be a great surgeon. Only a good one."

"What's wrong with being a good one?"

"Nothing," she said instantly. And it was true, there was nothing wrong with simply being a good surgeon and a good person-but being a great surgeon and a good person was even more vital. "But we need the third type more than the other two. Like I said, those guys, type threes are the best of us. We need them to represent us to the world."

"You know Mel," Sharon said as she opened the oven again, the warm, mouth-watering smell of roasted meat and garlic wafting into the kitchen. "For what it's worth, I think you're type three."

 _Type threes don't kill people while they sleep and then lie about it for twenty-years._ _They don't have part of them that stops all emotion, they care about everyone who goes onto their table._ That there was the reason she herself was only a type two surgeon. A great doctor, but not a good person. Sure, Melody knew she could have been far worse, but her past crimes prevented her from ever being truly good. She could only be better than she was, but that didn't bother her. She'd made peace with that fact long ago.

"I respectfully disagree," Melody said, eyeing the perfectly seared steak that was sitting in a sizzling pool of butter and garlic. "But thanks. Did you want any help-?"

"Nope."

"Sharon I won't destroy a salad."

"Believe me, you'll probably find a way. Remember what happened at Thanksgiving when we were in college?"

"Salt and sugar look exactly the same," Melody defended herself. "How was I supposed to know which was which just by looking at them?"

Sharon laughed. "Well my guests figured out pretty quickly that someone had sprinkled a cinnamon-salt mixture over the apple pie crust rather than one with sugar."

"I said I was sorry!" 

"I know you did, but you can' t blame for being cautious. This is a prime piece of meat and I don't want it getting spoiled." Sharon smiled at her again. "Why don't you set the table? That feels like a safe option."

"I never eat at the table," Melody reminded her even as she let herself down off her stool and made her way towards the cabinets to grab plates. 

"Then it's safe to say your branching out," Sharon replied as she dug out the lettuce from the fridge. "You're trying new things, dating, eating at tables-my little doctor is all grown up." Sharon made a mock-crying face and Melody stuck her tongue out at her. 

"We're not dating either," she informed her friend as she set the plates out onto the smooth oak tabletop. "We're just friends right now."

"Well if you start dating him again bring him home. I'd like to meet him."

Melody returned for the silverware. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean isn't he technically your first boyfriend?"

"I guess so." Boyfriend really didn't feel like the right word to apply to James. It didn't feel like enough to describe who he'd become to her. Melody didn't think there were words. _Wonder how you'd have felt meeting him?_ s he thought to herself. She already knew, from a previous conversation with James that Sharon strongly disapproved of his feelings for her. If she had known they were returned, Melody was sure that might cause a seriously unhealthy rise in her friend's blood pressure.  

"You only dated two guys in college and you broke one of their noses."

Melody's face flamed. "Yeah, some first date that was." He'd tried to kiss her goodnight and she hadn't recognized what he was doing. Her first instinct had been that he was going to hurt her and so she'd reacted accordingly. The story she fed everyone else was that she'd never been kissed before and simply panicked. That version had been widely accepted since then. 

"Who was the other guy then? What'd you two do?"

"Got drunk off our asses and had sex," Melody answered. "I didn't even remember his name the next morning."

"And there was the end of your drinking career."

"Yep." She looked at the set table a moment. The plain white plates and shining utensils beautiful but clearly underused. "Anything else we need out here?"

"Nah," Sharon came over, carrying a small salad bowel with two wooden utensils over it. Melody had seen them before, but had no idea what they were called. "That's just about everything, you want to grab the steak?"

"Sure," Melody obliged and set it out on the table. "Thanks for cooking."

"Thanks for letting me use your kitchen," Sharon said with a slight raising of her glass. "This thing is state of the art."

"Shame I can't really use it," Melody said laughing and she was glad to hear her friend's giggles mix with her own. That had been one of the things that had initially drawn her towards Sharon when they'd met-they shared a similar sense of humor. 

"Don't worry," Sharon promised, grabbing the wooden utensils and tossing a helping of salad onto Melody's plate. "I'll cook in it enough for both of us; say when."

"When."

"You need to eat your greens."

"Life is too short for bland food," Melody said dryly and Sharon's eyes twinkled.

"You're a bit of a smartass sometimes."

"That's why you keep me around," she replied, smiling and she was about to ask for the steak when her phone went off. "Oh shit, hang on." She stood up and made the quick walk to the counter, sure enough, her phone was buzzing but it was an unknown number. Normally, she would have ignored it, but a small portion of her heart froze her as she reached to tap the ignore button.

 _What if it's James?_   It whispered, it sounded hopeful and afraid at the same time. _What if he needs you?_ Melody didn't want to listen to that voice, she didn't want to hope, but even so she picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"Melody," her heart plummeted into her stomach, the small, barely there hope that had begun to burn in her chest stopped entirely.

"Are you dying?" she asked, her voice tense, even to her own ears, her hand fighting on the phone. If she'd possessed the same strength as James,  Melody was certain she would have broken her cell.

"No-."

"Do you need a bone marrow, kidney or liver transplant?"

"No, Melody please-."

"Then never call this number."

And with no further word, she hung up, blood roaring in her ears and she turned to the table, slamming her phone down on the wooden surface with far more force than was necessary. 

"Um," Sharon looked at her with wide eyes. "Who was that?"

"A pathetic drunk, can you pass me the steak?"

Sharon's puzzled gaze softened. "Mel, what did she want?"

"I don't know, but it wasn't vital to keeping her alive so therefore I don't care." That was all the relationship Melody wanted with Moira now. If she came down with a condition that required searching through families for a donor, Melody would come. She wouldn't be like Moira. If the power to save her life rested with her, Melody would use it, but that was the extent she'd be involved. She had her own life now and there was no place for Moira in it.

"Mel," Sharon said softly. "I'm not going to pretend she didn't hurt you, but don't you think..." She trailed off, but then Melody saw her friend square her shoulders, building up her courage. "Maybe you could give her a chance? I did some digging on her over the years, she _did_ go to AA and got sober. She might not be the same person anymore."

"Leopards don't change their spots," Melody said firmly, stabbing a piece of medium rare steak with enough force to impale a human hand at least. "Once a drunk always a drunk." _Once a coward always a coward._  

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," Sharon said after a few tense moments while Melody continued to attack her steak. "But I don't think you should cut her out like this, not before you hear her out. Judge her on who she is _now_ instead of who she _was_."

 _You don't even know who she was,_ Melody thought savagely as she chewed her meal. She was too angry to even taste it. _You have no idea what she did to me._  

 _So tell her,_ a small voice in the back of her head chimed in. _Tell her what happened._

 _How?_ she answered back, throat constricting as fear pumped through her blood. Melody clenched her hands around her silverware to stop them from trembling. _How can I talk about this?_ The scars burned dully, not agony, but a reminder of the pain. A reminder that violent beginnings, truly had violent ends. 

Two emotions began to bubble up inside Melody and she knew both of them so well. One was desire-flickering like flame. The desire to open up, to unburden herself of all her secrets and trust her friend, the closet thing she'd ever had to a real family. Another was fear, ice cold and creeping through her veins like poison. Both were powerful, but both were equal inside her. And when both were equal, neither could win. No change could be made and the secrets that were rising up in her throat were lost when she opened her mouth.

"Mel?" Sharon said, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied. This battle was one she'd fought for so many years. And so often, it ended the same way. Her desire to have more in her life, to be better than she was, was not strong enough to conquer her fears. Neither were strong enough to win and so, there was a truce instead. Nothing about her would change. It had always been that way, always, until James...

"Are you sure you're alright?"

A bolt of pain shot through her heart and Melody quickly rearranged her face into a smile. "I'm sure, I'm just tired. It's been a long week and it's not over yet. I've got another shift at the hospital tomorrow."

Sharon didn't return her grin and for several moments, she was silent. But finally, she smiled back, and said, "Okay, but if you need someone to talk to, I'm here. I promise."

Melody's forced smile stayed on her face. She couldn't see how she'd ever be able to talk to Sharon about the things that weighed on her mind every day. "I know you are, that's why you're my best friend."

And soon their conversation slipped back into something normal and for a while, she forgot about the phone call from Moira and she even forgot how she missed James. How she would have been able to talk to him, had he been there and how he would've understood her perfectly. How she wouldn't have been afraid. 


	39. Thirty-Nine

Bucky was expecting to see Steve this morning. They tended to eat breakfast together, now that Melody and Sharon were gone. Or at least, that was what Bucky had thought, but when he heard the tell-tale knock on his door, he saw his friend was not alone. Sharon Carter was by his side, dressed casually in a white t-shirt with her long hair pulled up in a ponytail.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too," the agent replied, smiling. "I'm just visiting for the weekend. Can I come in?"

"Didn't you just return to New York?"

"That was two weeks ago," Sharon said with a shrug. "And I'll be flying back come Sunday night."

"Won't that look weird?" Bucky stood aside to let her and Steve in, it didn't escape him that his friend shot him a rather apologetic look. He merely shrugged. For all they knew this was could be the one time in the next few months Sharon could visit, he wasn't going to begrudge Steve spending some time with her when he could. 

"Nah, I travel all the time for my job." She set herself down at the table and beamed at the spread Bucky had already laid out. Nothing special really, just toast and oatmeal but she looked fairly impressed. "This looks good."

"Thanks," Bucky muttered, making his way back to the kitchen and grabbing an extra bowl for Sharon. He hadn't been counting on feeding an extra person. "So, was this visit impromptu?"

"Yeah," Sharon said, nodding her thanks as he handed off a bowl and spoon. "Just said I wanted a bit more tropical weather before it got too hard to travel. End of summer is always the worst time for it. People trying to scramble to get one last outing in. My boss didn't even blink."

Bucky nodded. _That explains why Steve brought you along. He would never have done this if he'd had prior knowledge of your arrival._ Steve wasn't one to be rude when it came to bringing last-minute guests, so the only explanation here was that he'd had no other choice. And he wasn't one to cancel plans last minute in favor of something else either, this had been his compromise. 

"It's good to see you," Bucky said, hoping it would alleviate some of Steve's worries and sure enough, a bit of the tension in his shoulders came undone. "How are things in the Big Apple?"

"Same as always; busy and loud."

"The city never sleeps," Bucky said, repeating the old phrase which he'd always found to be true. Even at night in the nineteen forties, New York never seemed to slow down. "Had an okay time getting through the traffic then?"

"I stayed at Mel's the night before my plane took off," Sharon said, helping herself to a bit of toast. "So that helped. Her place is closer to the airport than mine."

Bucky tried to ignore the way his stomached leapt when he heard that. "Oh? Did she drive you then?"

"No, I took a cab. She was out that night and never got back. Stayed at her boyfriend's place."

"Boyfriend?" Steve said and Bucky was grateful that was the same question he wanted to ask.

Sharon rolled her eyes as she bit into her toast. "Well more or less. They dated before, but broke up six months ago. Mel says they're just taking things slow, seeing if they want to get together again. But honestly? They're basically a couple already and I think they're wasting time with that whole agenda." She looked over at Steve and Bucky was quite thankful for it. He felt sick and he didn't want someone to look too closely, for fear they'd see it written on his face. She'd moved on, she was with someone else now. The thought curled around his chest like a python and began crushing the air, slowly from Bucky's lungs. Someone else was holding her now, maybe right then as this very moment...

"Steve, are you even listening?"

"I am," his friend straightened up, looking defensive as he crossed his arms casually. "I just, can't really see Mel dating."

"She is a very desirable woman!" Sharon interjected sharply and dimly, some part of Bucky that wasn't focused on trying to breathe normally agreed wholeheartedly. 

"That's not what I meant," Steve said quickly. "I just meant, well, she seems like someone who'd much rather be at work than on a date."

"Oh," Sharon shrugged and reached for another piece of toast. "That's true, but see, this guy's a doctor too. A surgeon, but he works in the pediatrics department of West Memorial. Half their dates are in the hospital cafeteria or working together on cases. They're a match made in medicine." She chuckled at her joke and so did Steve, Bucky on the other hand didn't have that sort of strength. He forced himself to grin, but that was about all he could do. Another, newer feeling was mixing with the constricting pressure across his chest. A bitter, sharp feeling trickling through his veins like poison. It took a moment, but he realized what it was the farther along it got: jealousy. Melody had told him about the surgeon she'd dated after he left, Derrick his name had been. Apparently they weren't apart anymore and though Bucky didn't' know the man, a sudden, intense sense of loathing filled him. 

 _He doesn't deserve her,_ he thought venomously to himself as he grabbed his coffee. _He left her once, who's to say he won't do that again? For a doctor the guy's a huge moron._

"I haven't met him yet, but I think it's only a matter of time. But I do hope she gives me a heads up, I'll need a little time to prepare." There was a bit of an edge to Sharon's voice as she said that and despite the combined feelings of jealousy and loss twisting through Bucky, he found his voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Steve must have heard the change in Sharon's voice as well because he was looking expectantly at her too. "I don't like how that sounds."

"And you shouldn't," Sharon said brightly. "I don't care who he is, he's not good enough for Mel and it's my job to make sure he knows that."

 _Finally,_ Bucky thought. _Something we can agree on._  

"We'll see though, I figure if they really are taking things slow, then I might not get to meet him anytime soon. But I guess that's for the better, things are sort of crazy at work right now..." Sharon prattled on as they ate about the search for Steve and the others who'd violated the Sokvia Accords but Bucky was only half listening. He was distracted, his mind conjuring up images of a faceless stranger in dark blue scrubs sitting across from a laughing Melody. The sight was fake, but made Bucky seethe all the same. 

His focus moved in and out of the conversation, but finally, he heard Sharon say something about needing to use the bathroom and for the first time in a while, Bucky was addressed directly. 

"Hey, pal, I'm really sorry about bringing Sharon so last minute. I didn't know-."

"It's fine," he interrupted. "It's not a big deal." 

"Bucky-."

"Stop trying to apologize."

"But-."

"Steve, knock it off. It's fine, it's actually sort nice to see her again." _Though I really wish she'd have left out the bit about Melody. I was having a nice morning until that point._  

Steve frowned. "I never got the impression you two were that close."

"We're not, but given how I'm an internationally wanted criminal and there are several groups out there who will kill me on sight I can't really afford to be picky about my friends can I?" Bucky gave him a thin smile that was returned. "Are you happy? With her I mean." Bucky had never really inquired much about his relationship with Sharon before now, but suddenly, he did want to know. His own relationship had ended and he wanted to at least know that Steve wasn't in the same boat. He didn't deserve to be. 

"Yeah," Steve said, smiling and not quite meeting Bucky's eye as his face turned a bit red. "I am happy. Which is weird considering I'm technically a war criminal now."

"Hey, so am I," he teased and Steve looked up at him, smiling still. "Not so bad is it? Well unless someone starts trying to shoot you."

"Yeah," his friend replied. "That part is a bit of a problem." His smile faded a little. "Is it weird that I'm dating Peggy's great niece?"

"Sort of," Bucky said with a shrug. He'd never really thought of it that way, given how Steve had spent so much time frozen in the ice. He still had a whole life stretched out before him, which of course included dating. It was just random chance that it happened to be a descendant of someone he'd known from his past. "But don't let that stop you. If you're happy with her, well don't throw it away over something like that. It's not like you knew about the connection when you first started seeing her." Bucky stopped short, realizing that was just an assumption. "You didn't know she was related to Peggy did you?"

"Not until the funeral."

"Then don't worry about it," Bucky said with a grin as Sharon returned to them.

"So like I was saying," she began, but abruptly, her phone went off and she shot both of them an apologetic look as she pulled it out. "Hang on, I just-oh sorry, I need to take this."

And with no further word she accepted the call and put the phone to her ear and listened quietly for a moment. Then her cheerful expression faded, the blood left her face, turning her the same color as a corpse and Sharon leapt up to her feet, mouth open and incohert, half-formed sentences poured out of her mouth.

" _What? How could-what the hell do-are you kidding me_?" 

"Sharon what's wrong?" Steve asked, but she didn't seem to hear him, she eyes were glued to the far wall, staring at something only she could see.

" _When is-I'm halfway across the world! Are you serious? I'm not-what the hell?"_ Tears were slowly pouring down the agent's pale face, but she didn't seem to notice them. "Do whatever you have to do," she said, her voice less hysterical but still agitated. "I'll be there as soon as I can." And with a deep, shaking sigh, she hung up her cell phone and a visible shudder ran through her from head to toe.

"Sharon, what's going on?"

"Melody's been shot." 


	40. Forty

Bucky's entire body went numb, his coffee sliding through his fingers and crashing to the floor, but he couldn't hear the sound. He couldn't hear the frantic words that must have been coming out of Sharon's mouth as she rushed out the door. He couldn't hear the scrape of Steve chair over the floor as he followed his girlfriend nor the sound of his voice.

Bucky couldn't hear anything. He saw but did so without truly seeing anything at all. He couldn't feel anything. Nothing, save the disbelief that was roaring through him like a tidal wave.

 _"Melody's been shot."_   Sharon's grim, fearful voice was playing over and over in his mind like a broken record. It couldn't have been true, and yet it had to be. What else could've terrified the veteran agent so much? Why would she bother to lie about it? It had to be true and yet Bucky couldn't see how that was possible. Melody lived in a nice neighborhood, a very low crime rate. The odds of her being mugged were very, very low. And even if she had been, Bucky knew she had a conceal and carry permit-she would've had her gun with her. She would have been able to protect herself if the need arose.

 _But what if it wasn't a garden variety thug?_ A small voice whispered in his mind. What if it was someone else? _Someone in Hydra maybe?_ The thought sent a cold shock through Bucky, but still it wasn't enough to get him moving from his seat. That couldn't be right. Melody, according to all S.H.I.E.L.D. records had no part in the organization. No one, save Sharon, Fury and that other fellow who'd once paid her a visit at the house knew she was involved. 

Sam did, as did Steve, but up until a month and a half ago, Steve had never known who she was. All he'd know was that she was Sharon's friend. He had no idea of how she'd been involved, on occasion with S.H.I.E.L.D. when they needed a doctor who was good at being discrete. There was no logical way anyone would've made the connection between Melody and the Avengers. None.

A new, more powerful thought overtook Bucky. Right now, it didn't matter how this had happened, right now, what mattered was something far less complex and even more important: was she even alive?

This thought shocked Bucky out of his paralysis and he fell off his chair, trembling and choking on the panic that was creeping over his skin like bits of ice. It was cold enough to burn. Melody, he thought, gripping the leg of the table with his hand to keep upright. He knew, if he didn't have it, he would fall to the ground. Images overwhelmed his mind, Melody, laying in a dimly lit street, a bullet hole in her skull, blood and brain trickling down her face.  _She could be dead right now,_   he thought, eyes stinging as the image burned itself into his brain. _She could be dead right now and...No! She's not dead! She can't be! All Sharon said was that she'd been shot! Shot doesn't mean dead!_ The image in his mind changed, Melody was still laying on the sidewalk, but she was not dead. Her chest was heaving as blood, vivid crimson poured between her hands which she'd clamped over the gunshot. 

"She's not dead," Bucky said through numb lips, his voice barely sounding like his own. "She's not dead. She can't be dead." He wished that to be true more than he actually believed it. When Sharon had gotten the call she was still alive, but if the wound was bad enough, if she'd gotten help too late..."No!" Bucky shoved the table away from himself, his anger exploding with the force of a bomb. The table smashed against the wall with a loud bang, followed by the shattering of glass as the whole thing fell over and thudded against the ground. He barely heard the noise. "She is not dead." Bucky said again to himself, more firmly than before. "She's just hurt and you don't even know how badly yet."

But part of him _did_ know, Sharon's face had told him as much. If it was a superficial wound she wouldn't have reacted so strongly. There would have been no reason to...

"She's going to be okay," Bucky said aloud, strength draining from his limbs. He wrapped his arm around his legs, holding himself upright by sheer force of will. He would not break. He could not. What good would that do Melody if he just laid out on the floor, half-crazy with fear and worry? Nothing. He'd only cause more alarm for everyone else and right now, the focus didn't need to be on him, it needed to be on Melody. 

Bucky had no idea how long he sat on the floor, trying to stay calm and think instead of giving up against the tide of panic that was consistently rising and falling inside his stomach. Melody was shot. She was hurt and it must have been bad given Sharon's reaction. Part of him wanted to get up, to follow and figure out what the agent was up to-though he had pretty good idea already. But still, Bucky wanted to know more. That was one way, he knew, to help minimize panic; having all the facts. If a person had facts, their imaginations couldn't run as wild because there were so many blanks that needed to be filled in. It helped to keep them grounded in reality. Only problem was, Bucky couldn't move. He feared, the moment he got out of his cramped state he'd lose whatever grip he had on his self control and break down.

That wasn't an option and so he remained where he was and that was exactly how Steve found him. Sitting the floor, hunched up and silent with a scattered mess of broken dishes and turned over furniture around him.

"Bucky?" Steve's concerned voice reached him, but slower than normal. Like he was hearing the man through water instead of air. "What happened here?"

Bucky ignored him. "What's going on? Where's Sharon?" What happened here didn't matter, Melody did. Anything else could wait. 

"Sharon's flying back to New York." Steve answered, gazing warily around the room. Bucky couldn't blame him, it probably looked like there had been a violent struggle here. "What-?"

"What happened? What do we know?"

"Bucky-."

"Is Melody alright? Steve answer me." It didn't escape Bucky's notice how calm he sounded. That in itself felt like quite an achievement considering the fear that was eating away at his insides.

"Sharon  didn't say much," his friend said. "But she said enough, she was shot twice through her chest and was already being taken up for surgery by the time they got Sharon on the phone."

Dread coiled in Bucky's stomach. It went without saying that only patients who were in critical conditions  went to surgery that quickly. _I think I'm going to be sick,_ he thought as images of Melody laying, unconscious and hooked up to numerous machines while people cut open her chest ran through his mind. A shiver ran up and down Bucky's spine but thankfully, what little he'd eaten that day remained in his stomach.

"Bucky," there was a shuffling of broken glass and suddenly, Steve was sitting next to him on the floor. "Are you okay?"

"No. I'm not okay." He said flatly. The woman he loved was possibly dying on an operating table right now; there was no way to be okay when that was weighing on a person's mind.

"This isn't your fault. We don't know much, but from what Sharon was told, the shooter doesn't' seem to have any ties to Hydra or-."

"Steve," Bucky said, his voice weak. "I know you're trying to help but...you can't." There was nothing anyone could say to make him feel better. Nothing, save someone telling him Melody was going to be fine, but that was going to be a long time coming or maybe... _No!_ he thought fiercely, he couldn't think like that. He wouldn't even let his mind wander down that path. 

For a long while, Steve said nothing. "Mind if I sit here with you for awhile?"

Bucky rested his chin on his knees, not looking at Steve. "I'd like that."


	41. Forty-One

_I can't believe I'm doing this,_ Melody thought as she stood outside the patient's room. Chief Prescott had cornered her earlier today, asking her to take on a case that was rather personal for him. His friend, Patrick Doyle had come in for a biopsy on his lung which was no big thing, a needle biopsy took thirty minutes at the most and a VATS took only two, but apparently the patient hadn't wanted to do either of those. He'd wanted to do an open biopsy.

Why, Melody couldn't fathom but when she'd pressed the Chief, he'd only said that he'd already made the case for another, less invasive option as well and had been shot down. And so when he had failed to convince them to take a different route, he'd at least gotten them to agree to let him chose a surgeon to take the case. That surgeon was Melody and she had taken it though she did not agree at all with this course of action. Cancer, she knew was a scary thing, but at the moment, they didn't know if the masses found in Patrick Doyle's lungs during the scan were even cancerous. To open him up to find that out felt like a stupid and unneeded risk. 

"Do you have any questions about the surgery Mr. Doyle?" Doctor Parker, a fifth year resident whom Melody had selected to scrub in on the case asked as she finished her summation of the patient and his history. 

"No," the older gentlemen laying in the bed shook his head and gave Doctor Parker a good-natured smile. "I've had this explained to me by Andrew at least a hundred times when he tried to talk me out of it. I mean I get the guy's a doctor, but I smoked for ten years and have a history of this crap in my family. Odds are looking good I have cancer and if I do, you should be able to remove that junk if you already have me open?"

"That is a route we would look at," Melody answered him. Patrick had initially been surprised by how young she was, not that she was unused to it. One patient a day asked her if she was old enough to be an attending. "Provided you _do_ actually have cancer Mr. Doyle." _I'd still advocate for a needle or a VATS._ But personal feelings aside, Melody knew this time, it was not her place to advise her patient on what route to take. It was merely to see him through this one. 

His wife, Sally looked worriedly at her husband. "How soon will you know after you get the sample Doctor Frasier?"

"A pathologist will be able to determine relatively quickly whether or not the tissue is cancerous and we will proceed from there."

Mrs. Doyle still looked worried, given the frown lines etching deeper and deeper into her face. Her husband however, still wore his cheerful smile. "Ah come on Sally, Andrew picked this doctor out for the surgery. I'll be fine."

 _You're being very cheerful for a man who's chest is about to be cut open and that must mean you're one hell of an actor._ Melody had seen this often, when a patient went in for surgery, they'd often pretend to be more calm or assured than they were to ease the fear their families felt. "Are there any other questions you'd like to ask me before your surgery?" Patrick Doyle shook his head and after a meaningful look at his wife, she did the same as well. "Alright, I will see you in the OR."

And with no further word, she set down his chart and made her way out of the room and prepared herself to go to upstairs and get to the OR. However, she felt a soft tug on her wrist and stopped short. She turned and saw a familiar face though she'd never seen the young man before.  Given his heavy-set frame and brown eyes (both of which Melody had seen ten seconds previously in her patients room) this must have been their son.

"Are you the doctor who's going to operate on my dad?" he asked, his voice low and mature. It didn't match his oversized frame that told her this kid was still in his growth spurt. He couldn't have been older than fifteen  years old.

"Yes, I am and you are?"

"Anthony," he replied. "I'm his son."

Melody nodded. "I figured, did you have some questions for me?"

The boy looked at her with stern eyes and a very pale face. "Is my dad going to die?" HIs voice was soft, barely above a whisper and had he not been so close, Melody would not have heard it.

She sighed and looked at the frightened boy. He was too young to be dealing with this. "All surgery comes with risk and no one knows exactly what will happen once we're in there." That answer wasn't the reassuring one Anthony wanted, but it was the only one Melody could give. No surgeon, no matter how good they were could promise an ideal outcome. "But I promise, I am very good at what I do and so is my team. We will do everything we can to help your dad."

That was the only answer they could give, the only real promise they could make. It was the thing doctor's said most often, second only to "this will only hurt a little". Though that one was usually a fib. The everything one was always true. It was a way they comforted themselves when they watched families break apart. They could come to them, deliver news that would shatter their lives and truthfully say they had done all they could to prevent that outcome. 

"Thanks," Anthony said, but his face was still very pale. Melody was pretty sure he was still terrified. She couldn't really blame him for it. 

"They're going to bring him to pre-op soon," she told him. "Now's the chance to say goodbye."

Anthony nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard and looked towards the room where his father lay waiting to be taken in for a surgery. Melody said nothing to him as he moved towards the room, she was walking away herself. She had an OR to get to.

***

"So," Derrick greeted Melody several hours later, as their shifts were ending. He was still wearing his scrubs and judging by his mussed hair and the smell of soap clinging to him, he'd just walked out of an OR. "How'd the open biopsy go?"

"Patrick Doyle pulled through admirably and is in recovery."

"And the tumor?"

"Not cancerous," Melody replied, finalizing her case notes for an older patient who'd been admitted for a serious cough. They'd have to wait awhile, but she had a feeling it was whooping cough. "So the seriously invasive surgery they chose to do, based solely on the fact that they wanted to be able to remove as much of the cancer as possible was a waste of time. A needle biopsy or a VATS would've been just as well and required far less recovery time."

Derrick shook his head. "Well, they made their bed and now they have to lay in it."

"With a chest tube for twenty-four hours," Melody added dryly and he laughed. "That's not a bed I want to lay in."

"Me neither." Derrick shifted a bit closer to her. "So, when are you off?"

"I am off as soon as I check in on Patrick Doyle." She already had of course, since he'd woken up from surgery but she wanted to slip in one more time, just to have a point of reference when she returned in the morning. His condition, so far was stable she knew, but Melody wanted more exact figures versus the silence of her pager to tell her about what "stable" meant. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Who said I had anything in mind?" Derrick said, but his eyes were sparkling which suggested that there was something.

"That evil gleam in your eye," Melody teased, smiling at him. Derrick didn't even have an evil look. She didn't think it was scientifically possible for him to have one at all.

"I was going for charming," he stepped closer, winding one arm around her waist before pecking a kiss against her lips. "Is this better?" He smiled wider and waggled his eyebrows. The expression was so goofy looking Melody couldn't help her laugh.

"I'd say so," she said, returning the gesture. It didn't send an shower of sparks over her skin, but the familiarity of the gesture was easy. The way his hands were pressing softly against her was gentle, sweet even.

"Is it going to be enough to convince you to come to my place tonight for dinner? I'm making pasta."

"It seems you discovered my greatest weakness." She smiled and stepped out of his embrace, the smile on her face genuine. Those were harder for her to come by since she'd left Wakanda. Only Sharon or Derrick was really able to bring them out anymore. 

"Is that a yes?"

Melody finished the last of her case note with a small flourish of her pen. "Meet you at the front door when we're ready?"

Derrick beamed. "Sounds like a plan." He opened his mouth, apparently wanting to say more, but at that moment, his pager went off and he frowned, picking up the device and sighing. "I've got to go."

"Say hi to the kids for me," Melody called after him even as he retreated. It didn't bother her though, she was glad he didn't waste time answering his pages. She hated when people did that.  She set her completed notes on the nurses station and bade the on-duty team goodnight. All she had left to do was check in one last time on Patrick Doyle and she was free for the night. 

The elevator ride up to the post-surgical wing was quiet as the night shift began settling in. While sometimes, the night shift was chaos in action, other nights it was fairly calm and so far, it seemed to be the latter. Melody made her way into her patients room, the burly man was asleep-the pain killers they were giving him probably had something to do with that. Doctor Parker was in a chair, scribbling carefully in his chart.

"How's it been?" Melody asked, nearing the resident who leapt up in surprise at her approach.

"No change since you were here last, vitals are stable, sutures are holding, no usual discharges in the chest tube." Melody nodded. After an operation like that, those things were very encouraging signs. "Is there anything you wanted to add to his post-op care?"

"No,  I just wanted to check in." Melody turned, about to go to the lounge and change her clothing, but when she did, she found herself face to face with Anthony and the shiny barrel of a gun.


	42. Forty-Two

Melody stared at the glinting black metal and the tear-filled eyes of the kid in front of her. "Doctor Frasier," he greeted, his voice thick. "Please move."

Beside her, Melody saw Doctor Parker cower against the floor, hands thrown up above her head and tears streaming from her eyes as well as she trembled in terror. Melody however was doing none of those things. She couldn't. Her mind was speeding into overdrive, working at top speed as memories flooded her mind. Much more recent memories.

The way Patrick had looked at his wife when she offered them the chance to ask more questions. How she'd looked as though she had a thousand of them but had held her tongue when she saw her husband looking at her. He hadn't been looking at her that way to assure her of anything, as Melody had thought, it had been to deny her permission to ask anymore questions.The way Anthony had not been in the room, his pale, fearful face asking if his dad was going to die. She had read those signs all wrong. Anthony hadn't been afraid of his father _dying_ , he was afraid of his father _living._ He'd wanted him to die, wanted his death so that Anthony, for the first time in his life, could be free from him.

"Don't do this," Melody said, keeping her eyes trained on the kid instead of his weapon. She imagined her feet were like tree roots, digging into the ground. She had to stop him. Had to stop him before the child he was died forever, before he discovered how damaged and twisted his own mind was-before it was too late to save him.

"Move," he said, tears still dripping down his pale face. "You don't need to get hurt." He wiped at his eyes and the sleeve of his shirt pulled back a little, enough for Melody to see half-healed burns there. Likely from the butts of cigarettes and she knew with a cold sense of clarity that Anthony hadn't put them there. 

"If you do this," she said, "you're the one who will be hurting."

"No more than I do now," the boy replied, his tear-filled, angry gaze sliding to the unconscious man in the bed behind Melody. "Prison can't be worse than going home with him. At least this way, Mom will be safe too. I'm a minor, I'll get out when I'm eighteen." 

"Antony, this is so much more than just a prison sentence."

"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes going to his father again for half a second. "It is. He needs to pay."

"Yes," Melody agreed and she saw the boy's eyes widen in surprise. "I know he does. I know you're feeling scared and alone and angry and I know how badly you've been hurt-."

"You don't know anything," he said, the veins in his neck bulging as he practically shouted at her. His pale face flushed red and more tears leaked from his eyes. Dimly, Melody was aware of the chaos outside the room as they realized a gunman was present, but she couldn't hear it. She didn't care. They didn't need her now, Anthony did. She _had_ to save him. If there was something she could do, she couldn't walk away. She couldn't run when she could save him.

"Yes, I do. I know better than you think I do." Melody's lips trembled and she felt a tear slide down her face. "I know that if you do this, part of you will die. You'll never get it back. You will never move on from it. What you're trying to do will scar you worse than anything he's ever done to you."

"Shut up," Anthony growled, the trembling gun still held aloft. "You don't know what I've been through! You have no idea-."

"Yes. I do. You're afraid to go home everyday after school. You thought for awhile, that if you just acted a certain way he'd stop, but no matter what you did it was never enough. He never stopped being angry. The pain never stopped and now you think this is your only option. Your only chance to be free of him forever. But Anthony, I'm telling you this is _not_ freedom." Melody could taste the salt of her tears now as they ran down her lips. She was crying in earnest, but she wasn't even aware of it. Time was running out, she had to work fast, had to stop this before it destroyed him. "It's another cage, if you do this-."

"He doesn't deserve to live!"

"It's _not_ because he deserves to live," Melody shot back, her voice breaking. "It's because _you_ don't deserve to live with knowing you're capable of murder. Give me the gun and I _promise_ you, he will _never_ touch you again." The gun lowered a bit and Anthony looked back at her with tear-filled eyes, his hand twitched and then he shut his eyes. For a moment, Melody was able to breathe again and in that moment she reached for the gun. To pull it from his hands and make good on her promise. Whatever happened now, Patrick Doyle would never have access to his son again. She didn't care what it took, but she would make sure of it. No matter what, she would save Anthony, she wouldn't let his story end the way hers had.

Anthony tensed as he opened his eyes and saw her moving closer and there were two sounds like a firecracker. Melody gasped, feeling a sharp pinching in her chest and then the seared smell of burning skin. Her legs grew weak and she heard Anthony's deep voice calling inherit words to her as Doctor Parker screamed out. She fell slowly onto the ground and looked down, seeing dark red blood blossom on her scrubs.

 _I've been shot,_ she realized. _And I'm going into shock._ She'd never done that before, but it was the only explanation as to why the bullet wounds didn't hurt yet. Her body was in a state of shock, too overwhelmed to fully comprehend anything. But she could comprehend enough, she saw Anthony fall to the ground beside her, the gun on the floor and his eyes wide in horror at what he'd done. Security in their blue uniforms swarmed in and took advantage of the boy's shock, one officer grabbed him and another grabbed the gun. They yanked him to his feet and Melody heard the dull crashing of footsteps as doctors swarmed into the room.

"Doctor Frasier," a voice reached her, but it sounded funny. Far away from her even though she could clearly see how close Tucker Jones was to her. Must've been a side effect of shock. "Doctor Frasier can you hear me?" There was a tearing sound and Melody felt cold air rush against her skin. "I need a gurney in here! Doctor Frasier answer me!"

Melody tried to find her voice, but the air was so thin, so shallow. A burning sensation was starting to form in her chest and the copper taste of blood was filling her mouth...

"I need a chest tube!" Jones's far away voice reached her again. "Doctor Frasier stay awake do you hear me? You stay with me?" Melody felt herself being lifted and pain shot through every inch of her body, like she was being stabbed by a hundred knives at once. She tried to cry out, but she couldn't get air, black spots were dancing in front of her eyes. 

 _Am I dying?_ she wondered as she felt something hard jab sharply into her side and then more pain assaulted her, like a person had reached inside her and pulled her lungs apart. But the black spots began clearing away...she could breathe again but each one hurt.

"Alert the OR," a new voice reached her, but not one she recognized. "She needs to go up. It looks like her lung collapsed..."

 _Not like I haven't had that happen to me before,_ Melody thought as bright lights flashed over her head. _At least I'm in a hospital this time._ But there was something else, she wasn't sure what, but it wasn't just her lung that had been damaged. She could feel it, dimly. There where two bullet wounds, two places were she'd been shot, she could sort of remember seeing that when she'd first fallen... The lights flickered overhead and she wasn't sure if it was due to her failing conscience or the bodies that were swarming around her own, trying to hook her up to monitors and keep her alive.  

"Pulse is weak!" A voice cried, she didn't know who. The details of her world were becoming more fuzzy by the moment. 

 _I'm dying,_   Melody realized as her limbs grew heavy. _I'm dying._ Her eyes began to close as they too, grew heavy.  The world she could see was growing fuzzy and indistinct around the edges.

"Melody!" she heard her name called out by an unfamiliar voice-it irritated her. No one called her Melody. No one, save James. _James,_ the thought of his name brought his face into her fading mind and a pain throbbed through her chest that had nothing to do with the bullets that had torn through it. _I want to see James again._

The heaviness was fading from her body, replaced with a lighter feeling and for a moment, she felt hope. Maybe she was going to pull through, but then, the world began to get darker, the scattered voices of people around her slurred and became even more inaudible. _What's happening?_ Melody wanted to ask, but she couldn't find her voice, she couldn't feel her jaw, or any part of her body well enough to move it. 

 _James...I'm sorry._ And that was the last thought she had before her world turned black.


	43. Forty-Three

After a while, Bucky didn't know how long he and Steve got off the floor. Or rather, Steve stood up and then helped him get to his feet. Bucky let him do it. He knew he had to move, but he also lacked the strength to do it. 

"We should clean this up," Bucky muttered as his knees and back popped and crackled. 

"Want some help?"

"Sure."

And so they began the task of cleaning the mess Bucky made-a task that was trickier than it sounded. His time with Hydra had taught him how to be very destructive and when that knowledge combined with anger it left a lot of chaos in it's wake. It took ages to clean up the shattered remains of cups and plates on the floor and neither Steve nor Bucky spoke as they went about it.  Why Steve was silent Bucky didn't know, it wasn't like him, but he didn't push his luck. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to think. He just wanted his mind to go numb and normally, a task like cleaning would've done that. But this was not a normal day. This was a day where he could lose Melody. A day where she could die. The thought was paralyzing and Bucky lurched forward, fear and pain twisting around his insides and yanking them sideways. He caught himself on the floor, aware of the hissing noise that was escaping between his teeth as his hand sliced open on some glass shards. 

"Bucky?" Steve was over by him faster than he could blink. He stepped away a bit unsettled. Though a great deal of time had passed since nineteen forty-five and a lot had changed, in many ways, Steve was still the same scrawny kid Bucky had known back then. To see him get around so easily now was sometimes unsettling as a result. "You alright?"

"Fine, just a cut," blood was bubbling up into his palm as he spoke. "It's nothing."

He stepped around Steve and made his way towards the sink. Turning on the faucet with his wrist, he let water flow over his bleeding hand, the cuts stung in response and the water began to turn pink. His first instinct was to grab a towel, wrap it around the cuts and go back to cleaning, but even as Bucky turned off the water he realized he wasn't going to do that. _You might have glass in there,_ Melody's voice sounded off in his head. An echo of another time and place when he'd cut open his hand on a knife when he'd destroyed a few of her dishes one night. Bucky laughed to himself, but it really didn't sound like laughter. More a mix between sobbing and choking. 

"Bucky, you alright?"

"Fine," he said, knowing Steve was talking about his physical state. "Just need to get a better look at this. I was cut up on the glass."

"Oh here, hang on." There was a pinging noise as glass shards were dumped into the trash. "You have a tweezers anywhere?"

"Bathroom medicine cabinet," he muttered, watching blood seep from the cuts across his wet palm again. Melody wouldn't have had to ask that. That was the first thing she went looking for in any place. Even in the most mundane settings, she was always prepping for the worst. 

"Here we are," Steve's voice was upbeat as he made his way back into the kitchen. Sure enough, a small silver tweezers was glinting in his hands. They looked ridiculously small in his hand. "Give me your hand."

"I can do it," Bucky muttered.

"With what? You only have one hand."

Bucky rolled his eyes but his friend was right. He hadn't been thinking when he'd said that. He held out his hand. He wasn't going to fight Steve on this. There was no point. Steve steadied his hand and then began looking critically at the wounds. Several seconds later, he dug in one with the tweezers and withdrew a long, thin shard of glass and now that he was thinking more about it, Bucky could feel a few more pieces inside his hand. 

"You know," Steve said conversationally. "I'm thinking T'challa made a mistake stocking all the rooms with glassware. I think plastic would've been a safer bet, you know considering our line of work and all." He smiled but Bucky did not return it. "But I guess," Steve continued on, either ignoring his mood or just trying very hard to lift it. "Maybe he wasn't planning on hosting internationally wanted criminals here. I mean, no one can plan for that right?"

Bucky didn't reply. Steve was taking forever to do this. When this had happened at Melody's house, she'd taken seven minutes tops to clean out the glass and bandage the wound. He'd been so horrible to her then, made it so difficult for her to do something so simple...

"I think that's all of it," Steve said finally, setting one final bit of glass onto the counter. "You feel anything?"

 _Besides dread?_   "No, it feels fine. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Steve set down the tweezers and his grin started to fade. "Bucky, this isn't your fault."

Bucky grit his teeth. He didn't care about fault right now, he just cared that Melody walked out of this alive. "That doesn't matter."

"You're beating yourself up over it," Steve said flatly. "I'd think that matters." He grabbed a chair off the ground and sat it upright and then sat down in it, breathing deeply. "I don't know Doctor Frasier-Mel," he corrected himself. "I don't know Mel very well, but I don't think she'd want you to blame yourself for this."

Bucky grabbed a chair as well and shoved it upright. His stomach twisted painfully as he sat down. Steve wasn't entirely wrong, if he was blaming himself, Melody would certainly argue against it. But that wasn't what was eating him up, not even close. It was that she could be dying as they spoke. That he wouldn't be able to say goodbye. The unfairness of the situation; she was only thirty-two and supposed to have a good, long life. Melody, when it was her time to die, was supposed to go peacefully. Maybe asleep in her bed. But this wasn't a peaceful or timely exit. This was brutal, this was wrong, so wrong on so many levels and there was nothing Bucky could do about it. Nothing he could do to save her and nothing that could be done to protect her. All he could do was sit there, wait and hope and Bucky wasn't exactly good at any of those things at the best of times. And this was easily the worst time of his life. Worse than realizing what he'd become, what Hydra had made him into. That was horrible, yes, but Bucky had found a way to live with it, found a way to accept it and more forward as best he could. He  had not, however found a way to live in a world where Melody was dead and he didn't have any clue how he to either. He was lost, just like he'd been lost after Steve woke him in DC over two years ago.

 _Things are different than two years ago though,_ Bucky thought as he looked at Steve. That time he'd been alone too, now he wasn't. He had Steve with him. The person he'd gone through the formative years of his life with, through World War Two and now the conflict that had divided Earth's mightiest hero's and the aftermath that came with it. He wasn't alone and that was something. It was all he hade left.

 _I'm sorry Melody, but I'm not strong enough to do this alone._ "I'm ready to talk about the Nightingale."


	44. Forty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter today since the previous one was pretty short, enjoy! :)

Steve cleared his throat, apparently surprised. Bucky wasn't sure, he was still staring at the table. He couldn't bring himself to raise his face and look at his friend. If he did, Bucky feared he'd freeze up, become paralyzed and not be able to speak. If he told Steve everything, then...then it was real. It wasn't just some place that hovered in between their respective realties. This would merge it all together, for better or worse. Melody had asked him not to say anything, he'd promised not to, but that was when he knew she was alive and well. Bucky couldn't stay silent anymore. He couldn't carry this alone.

"The Nightingale?" he repeated. 

"Yeah."

"Really?"

Bucky laughed without humor. "Yeah, really."

"You said, last time that you didn't want to talk about it."

"That was a month ago," Bucky replied dully. "I wasn't ready then. I'm ready now."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have said anything if I wasn't." _I wouldn't have said anything if Melody wasn't dying and I'm doing everything I can to not go crazy. I can't do this alone._

Steve was silent for a second. Bucky didn't have to look at him to envision the intense look on his face. This was the only thing Steve didn't know about his time in Hydra. The one thing Bucky had kept on lock down until now. In that time, Steve had plenty of time to imagine just who Nightingale was. Bucky didn't have to read minds to know his ideas were probably all very wrong.

"Tell me about it." The phrase was the same one Steve used every time Bucky came to him, ready to discuss one more thing about Hydra-further proof that every theory he had about the Nightingale was completely wrong.

"Nightingale has nothing to do with Hydra."

"What?"

"She has nothing to do with Hydra," Bucky repeated his throat going dry. 

"Is she with S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"No. Nightingale isn't a codename, it's a term of endearment."

"Endearment?"

"Yeah." Steve sounded too surprised to hear that. "It's not a codename, it's just something I called her when we were alone." 

"I've got to ask, how'd you come up with 'nightingale' of all things?"

"Because they're songbirds and she had- _has,_ a beautiful voice." Bucky cursed himself for his use of past-tense. Melody wasn't dead. He had no place acting like she was. "She sang me to sleep almost every night, or after I'd wake up from the nightmares. She even recorded her voice on tapes so when...when we weren't together I'd still have that to help me sleep." 

"You have tapes?"

"And a Walkman radio. Not exactly a new machine in this day and age, but it can't be tracked."

"She knew you were a criminal?"

"Yeah."

"And you stayed with her, while you were on the run? I thought you were with Melody."

"I was."

"Then how-?"

"She _is_ the Nightingale Steve."

"Excuse me?"

"She's Nightingale-they're the same person. I don't even know how it happened, but it did. I didn't mean to love her-."

"Okay hold on!" Steve cut him off, which was very unlike him. The hysterical edge to his voice was enough to make Bucky look up at him. His face was white and his eyes were wide, hands together in the shape of a T. "Time out! Back up!"

"What's there to go back to?" Bucky asked. "I haven't even started." That was the beginning of the story-or at least the part that he needed to talk about. 

"You love her?" Steve asked, laying his hands out on the table, but his wild eyes still remained. "You're in love with Mel?"

"Yes."

"Mel Frasier?"

"That's what I said."

Steve didn't lose his shocked expression. "Are you _serious_?"

"Why wouldn't I be? What's so hard to grasp about it?" Bucky asked, loosing his patience. "Hydra fucked me up pretty well, but I didn't lose my ability to have emotions Steve. I can still feel love." Melody was proof enough of that fact. 

"I'm not trying to say that!" he exclaimed. "I just can't get my head around the Mel portion of this, I mean I've seen you two together and you never treated her any differently than most doctors you saw. I mean, yeah you were politer, but I just thought-."

"That it was because she was Sharon's friend and I owed her? No." Bucky smiled, recalling just how he'd treated Melody when they'd first met. He'd been so terrible to her, so rude and ungrateful all the time and she'd never stopped trying to help him. "I love her. Like I said, I never meant to, it just...happened. At first, I didn't really want anything to do with her. She wanted to help me, but I was too angry and hopeless to accept it. I treated her so badly, despite everything she was risking but she still didn't give up. She'd offer help every day-no matter how annoyed I sounded when I said no. One night, I got hurt. I sort of flipped out and threw over the table and cut open my hand." Even as he said it, Bucky's eyes drifted away from Steve's pale, stoic face and to his hand. There hadn't been a scar from the incident, but he remembered where it was anyways. "I tried to shove her off, but she wouldn't budge this time. She was sure there was glass inside the wound and she just didn't back down. I said awful things to her, throwing my past back into her face to scare her, but it didn't work. Melody was just too stubborn. Sort of like someone else I know." He glanced up at Steve and smiled but his friend didn't return it. "So, I gave in. I let her help me and later...Well I got a wake up call and decided what I had been doing to her was wrong. I tried to do better by her, considering all she was doing for me. And things changed after that. When I let her in, I started to care about her more and more. I started to notice little things about her; weird quirks, things that made her laugh and...I realized one day that I loved her."

Bucky shut his eyes, tremors running up and down his body as sobs began to build in his chest. "I love her and I've had so many nightmares about her getting hurt and now it's not a nightmare." His chest constricted and his breathing became harsh, ripping out of him in short, stiff gasps. "I can't wake up from this. She got shot. She could be _dying_ right now and I can't do anything about it. I can't breathe, I can't think and I'm terrified that the only way I'll ever hear her voice again is over a recording!" His voice reached a high, hysterical l pitch and his words poured out of him like rain out of clouds. Tears dripped down off Bucky's face, falling softly onto the table but he made no move to clean them up. More would just take their place.

"Bucky," Steve said softly and there was another harsh sound of chair legs against the floor as he moved closer. "We don't know that she's dying."

"Why else would Sharon have panicked like that?" Bucky shot back, unwilling to grab onto the hope his friend was offering. Hope was useful, but it also had moments where it was foolish. This was one of them. It wouldn't help, it would just crush him when reality set in.

"It's Mel," Steve replied instantly. "She overacts when it comes to her. That's how she is."

"That's not it," Bucky said, his voice trembling. "I know it." Bucky didn't know much about hospital protocol but he knew enough. When they informed families of accidents, if the wounds weren't serious that was what they were told. If Melody was wounded, but not in a dangerous condition Sharon wouldn't have been wearing that petrified expression when she got that phone call. "I know it, and so you do."

Steve sighed. "I don't know the extent of her injuries at all, but I do know that she was shot in the hospital. They told Sharon as much and she passed it on to me. Getting shot is never an ideal thing, but I'd think a hospital is kind of an ideal place for it to happen."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "It probably is. Time is everything in medicine, but it's only part of it. It doesn't matter if they got to her ten seconds after the bullet went in, if it was somewhere fatal-."

"She'd already been in surgery for an hour when Sharon finally got the call," Steve interjected.

"She could still die on the operating table," Bucky said, clenching his hand into a fist. "Do you know how often that happens?" His voice was tight and painful, like the words were made of glass. "She has patients _die_ on that thing every day and she's a _great_ surgeon. She could have a _team_ of _great_ surgeons working on her and she could _still die_." That was the reality of the job Melody worked. She'd said so herself hundreds of time. She, as a surgeon could do everything right to save her patients life and they could still die. Her skills only promised so much, but they couldn't promise life. That was impossible.

"Why are you doing this?" Steve shot at him, irritation lacing his voice. "I know you're scared but you can't give into this. You have to a little faith."

"Feels pretty damn hard at the moment." Bucky had no faith in him. He had nothing, save the dread and fear that had poisoned his insides the moment Sharon got that call.

"You have to try."

"I can't. I want to but I can't."

"She's going to be fine," Steve said firmly and once again, Bucky heard that iron-clad determination in his voice. As though Steve could will things into reality just by sheer force of will. "She's going to be fine and you'll see her again, you'll have the chance to tell her how you feel."

The words reached Bucky slowly. He blinked, feeling his heart slow in his chest. He'd messed up and left out one critical part of the story. "That's the craziest part about all of this," he whispered. "She loved me too." He blinked and another rivulet of tears washed down his cheeks. "It shouldn't have happened. We live in two different worlds, we should _never_ have fallen in love but we _did_. It's not enough, we knew that. Her visit to Wakanda was going to be her last, she told me that before she left for New York and I hated that. I _hate_ that, but I could live with it. I could let her go to live her life if I knew she was safe. It hurt,  but I could do that. But I can't do this. I can't live with her being dead Steve. I _don't know_ how to do that.  I _don't know_ how to exist in a world where she doesn't and everything I know, every coping technique I have can't help me. I learned all of them from her. They're just another reminder of what I lost." The journals, the association, the songs that put him to sleep at night-they couldn't help him here. They were all pieces of Melody. Bucky was barely holding together as it was, he didn't need to make things worse and cut open the wounds further. 

"You didn't."

Now it was Bucky's turn to be confused. "What?"

"You didn't lose her, not yet anyways." He stretched out in his chair and dug his hand into his pocket. He held out his cell phone and set it down on the table. "I told Sharon to keep me in the loop and she promised she would. When that goes off," Steve pointed to the cell phone. "It's going to be her and she's going to have an update for us. If Mel was dead, she would've called already because they would've told her."

"She's on a plane, no phones allowed."

"T'challa took her on his own aircraft, I think the rules are a little different. But either way, until that goes off," he indicated the black-screened cell phone. "We don't know anything past that Melody was shot and was brought up to surgery. And so, we're gonna wait here, alright?"

Even in his grief-ridden state, the use of the plural term didn't escape Bucky. "Alright." And neither of them said anymore but that didn't matter. Words were a bit useless at the moment. Words didn't fix Melody, words didn't stop the fear that was curling around him like a snake and words didn't make time move any faster. There was nothing that could be said. All that could be done was to wait. 

 _It's going to be a long night,_ Bucky thought as he stared at the table top. _The longest night of my life._


	45. Forty-Five

Waiting was easily the worst sort of torture imaginable; nothing, Bucky decided was worse than the things your own mind could create while you waited to find out the truth. As the hours dragged on and morning turned to early evening and then to night, a hundred different situations formed in his mind. Melody, laying dead, still and pale in a hospital morgue. Melody, in a hospital bed, hooked up to numerous tubes and machines as they kept her alive through artificial means. Faceless doctors standing around an OR table, their gloves covered in blood and gore as they looked at the clock and called time of death. 

Whether any of it was true was still up in the air, but it didn't make the ideas any less unsettling for Bucky. As long as Steve's phone (which was resting on the coffee table) remained silent, Bucky had no way of what was really happening all the way in West Memorial Hospital.

"Bucky?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head. He and Steve had taken to the living room after their initial conversation and Bucky was on the couch, eyes shut though he wasn't trying to sleep. His waking thoughts were and enough-he didn't even want to know what his dreams would be like.

"Yeah?"

Steve's met his eyes, his shoulders tense as he studied Bucky. "Does Sharon know? About you and Mel?" There was a bit of weight behind the question that Bucky recognized instantly. He was afraid Sharon had lied to him again-broken his trust.

"No, not entirely."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She figured out that I love Melody," he said, wincing as he recalled that day. "She wasn't pleased. But she doesn't know anything other than that. I think she'd shoot me if she did." The agent had certainly looked angry enough that day in the gardens. Bucky wasn't going to forget that barely controlled outrage that had been written all over her face. "In her defense though, emotions were running pretty high that day, it wasn't long after...the lab that she figured it out." He couldn't bring himself to get more specific, the memory of that day still hurt too much. 

"You didn't mean that," Steve said sharply and Bucky sighed. Intent didn't change that it had happened. It had been his hand around her throat, the pattern of bruises left behind after the incident had been in the shape of his fingers and there was no getting around it.

"I still did it. And I don't think, aside from when I almost killed you in DC," Bucky winced, he and Steve rarely spoke of that. The memory was still painful, for both of them. "That I've ever regretted anything so much, or hated Hydra more for what they did to me."

"She wasn't even hurt-."

"That isn't the point," Bucky said flatly. _Someone did that same thing to her for years. That and worse. I promised her it would never happen again._

Steve sighed. "I can't convince you otherwise, can I?"

"Odds aren't in your favor," Bucky admitted. He knew there was a line, he knew, if he'd had choice, he would have never done anything to harm Melody. He was aware that the blame there laid solely with Hydra, but still, it had been his hands to do the task.

Steve said nothing in reply. He studied his nails for a moment and breathed deeply again. "You don't have to answer this, but I have to ask. When I asked you what Doctor-what Mel, told you about the lab, when we were all trying to get you to go back, you said she asked you if you were okay living like this. Was that true?"

Bucky looked away from Steve, shame warming him from the inside out. Steve was his best friend and lied to him. "No, it wasn't."

"So her story about asking if you wanted to talk about the lab, you saying no and her dropping the subject was a lie too?"

"No. That was true."

"Then how did you guys talk about it?"

"She was going back to New York-we didn't have time to _not_ talk about it." It was the only reason Bucky had asked Melody what she thought about it all in the first place. He loved her and he wanted to know what she thought about everything. That was their only time to talk openly and honestly about it. 

"Then what did she say?"

"That she loved me," Bucky said, the memory washing over him. He could almost feel her hand in his, see the pale tears swimming in her bright green eyes. "And that it didn't matter if Hydra was still in my head-that I wouldn't even know who she was, that she didn't want to look at me and know I didn't love her anymore." Bucky felt his throat get tight as he said that. Melody had to face that anyways, not long after that conversation. 

"I see," Steve said shortly though his tone of voice indicated that it wasn't entirely true. "Why didn't you tell me? About you two?"

"I wanted to," Bucky replied softly. "I hated lying to you about her. I wanted you to know and so I talked to her about it, about telling everyone but Melody...she wasn't on board."

"Why not?" 

"Because she never planned to see me again after she left Wakanda. She wasn't going to come back. We were...over." Bucky winced again, a sharp pang behind his ribs in response to that. The same one he'd felt when he and Melody had that conversation. "She didn't want to stir up all the drama when it was done with."

"Did she...did she stop loving you?"

"No, and that's probably the worst part of it all. We just...live in two different worlds and she didn't think we could make it work."

"Sharon and I make it work."

"It's not the same thing." Steve wasn't aware of just how fragile Melody's public persona was. No one knew, save Bucky knew what she was always burying, always hiding from view and had to, if she wanted to keep the life she had. Bucky didn't know much about law and medicine, but he was pretty sure, if word got out about what she'd done to John and the world knew, the idea that Melody would lose her license wasn't hard to imagine.

"How is it any different?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why," Steve began, but he stopped short as the steady ring of his cell phone cut through the silence. The blank screen lit up and Bucky leapt up from his seat, heart pounding and startlingly alert as anticipation and fear built up inside him at alarming rates.

Steve grabbed the phone and accepted the call, hitting another button the screen to put Sharon on speaker. "Sharon?"

The agent's voice was hoarse and weak. "She's out of surgery but she's still in critical condition. They put her in the ICU."

The fist that had been squeezing Bucky's heart for hours lessened a little. This wasn't exactly good news, but it was far better than he'd let himself hope for. She was alive. Melody was still holding on. "How long will she be there?" Steve asked, glancing at Bucky, as though looking for cues on what to ask.

"They don't know," Sharon's voice broke. "She can't breathe by herself. One of the bullets collapsed her right lung."

 _At least she was in a hospital this time,_ Bucky thought morbidly. John, he knew had inflicted a similar injury on Melody before when she was a kid. "One of the bullets?"

"The gun was shot twice, one went to her lung and another hit her heart. They had to repair a valve in her heart, I don't know which one. They told me but I can't remember." This time Bucky could clearly hear the tears in the agent's voice. He could feel them building up in his eyes too. Out of every place she could have been shot, it had to be in two of the most critical places in the human body. 

"What do they know, about the shooter?"

"He was a kid," Sharon said and her voice was dismissive. "I don't even care right now. I just..." Sharon broke off and began crying in earnest and though Bucky and her didn't always get along, right then his heart went out to her. In this, he and the agent were completely on the same page. They were both terrified of loosing Melody.

"She's going to be fine, she's tough." Steve said and once again, his voice rang with certainty. Like there was no other option or possible outcome for this situation. 

"I don't know," Sharon said pathetically. "Her medical history is so incomplete..."

A stone fell into Bucky's stomach. In his fear, he hadn't even realized there was another set of issues with Melody being shot. He'd been so focused on her just surviving, that he hadn't even thought of what would happen to her if she did. In the operation, it would become clear to every doctor on the case that Melody had been terribly, brutally abused for years. The scars. They weren't a secret anymore. Sharon knew. _Oh God, Nightingale,_ Bucky thought, heart aching as he realized how scared she would be if- _when, when_ she was alert enough to understand what had happened to her. He couldn't think like that, Bucky _would not_ let himself go down that path of complete despair. He had to be stronger than that. 

"Incomplete?" Steve echoed. "What do you mean?"

"M-Melody is covered in scars." Sharon whimpered, her voice tight with grief and fear. "I don't know why, no one does, but...it's awful."

"Scars?" 

"Someone hurt her, badly. The doctors think it went on for years, that's the only way to explain all the damage. They took some X-rays and they showed old fractures, concussions, there's damage around her throat from being strangled-."

"Well she was," Steve reminded her. "But it wasn't-."

"No, I mean more than once. I mean it happened before... No one knows anything. They're trying to track down Moria, they think she might know something." A hard note crept into Sharon's tear-strained voice. It was hard and cold and honestly, scared Bucky. He'd never heard Sharon like this, ever. "And I swear to God if she did this..." She didn't finish the sentence but she didn't need to, the message was pretty clear. Moria Frasier, if found guilty would pay dearly for it.  Bucky wondered how Sharon would react when when she found out what Moria's true crime was; indifference. 

"I have to go," the agent sighed. "But I'll update you soon. Bye."

And before Steve could muster a farewell of his own, the line went dead. He looked up at Bucky. "She's alive."

"She's alive," Bucky echoed. It was more than he had dared to hope for, but the fear was still there. She was alive, but still critical-that meant she wasn't out of the woods. And when she woke up, Bucky knew that was going to be the start of her struggles. Her secrets were about to come out and Melody had no way to stop it. No one to turn to. She was going through this all alone... Bucky rested his elbow on his knee, resting his head in his hand. Usually, his place as a criminal didn't bother him, he'd learned to live with it, but now that was no longer the case. Now, he resented this place he was in. He hated it with everything in him. Melody needed him, she needed someone there to help her, to be by her side as her carefully built life started to fall apart around her. She needed someone to be there and hold her hand-and he couldn't do it. Because of his past as the Winter Solider, he couldn't be there for her.

"Bucky," Steve said slowly. "She's alive, you don't need to-."

Bucky realized his emotions were showing on his face and Steve was misreading the reasons. "I know she's alive, but when she comes to, I think she's going to wish she had died on that table." 

"Bucky-."

"Sharon's known Melody longer than I have," he said softly, tears burning his eyes as he pictured Melody in the hospital bed. Awake and alert, wearing a gown that did nothing to hide the scar tissue that marked so much of her body. The same scars she'd been hiding from everyone her entire life. Bucky could already see her stricken, pale white face as faceless doctors and police officers crowded around her bed, asking questions she didn't want to answer. "But no one knows her better than I do. Steve, this is going to become her own personal hell."

"Do you know something?" his friend asked softly and Bucky nodded. "I'm going to call Sharon back, you need to-."

"No."

"No?"

"No," Bucky confirmed. He wasn't going to say anything. The injuries Melody had suffered were horrible, but none were going to interfere with the treatments she needed to undergo now. There was no reason to break his promise and tell her story.

"Bucky, the doctors-."

"Nothing that happened to her will affect the treatments she needs to get now," Bucky replied. "They'd like a complete history, but they don't need one now. I'm not going to say anything, not to anyone. It's not my place."

"You love her," Steve countered. "That's got to count towards some rights to speak for her."

"Not this Steve." Bucky said firmly. "She begged me not to say anything. I can't betray her like that, not unless her life hinged on it and right now, it doesn't." It wasn't his place to tell her story. He wouldn't do it, not when it was a formality instead of a real need. 

"Bucky," Steve tried again, a pleading edge to his voice and an imploring look on his face. "What happened to her?"

"Something that never should have happened," Bucky replied grimly. "I'm going to bed," he lied. Bucky was going to lay down, but he'd never sleep tonight. He knew that. "If Sharon calls again, please wake me up. Keep me in the loop, please."

Steve glared at him, anger glinting in his blue eyes. Bucky didn't blame him, he could read Steve pretty well. He saw Bucky's refusal to talk as irresponsible, as a disservice to Melody and everyone who was trying to help her. "I'll stay if that's alright," he said gruffly. "I can sleep on the couch."

Bucky smiled though he felt no happiness. Right now Melody was alive, but critical condition was hanging on by a thread. Any moment, any second she could turn for the worse. "Extra blankets and pillows are in the linen closet by the bathroom."

Steve nodded curtly, still seething silently. 

Bucky shrugged. Steve could feel however he wanted, it wasn't going to change his mind. "Steve?" he called as he laid himself out on the mattress. It was wearing unevenly now; Bucky hadn't been able to bring himself to sleep on Melody's side since she'd left a month ago. "Thanks, for being here."

For a long while, Steve was silent and the lights turned off. Finally, he heard his friend's gruff voice answer him. "I'm with you till the end of the line pal."


	46. Forty-Six

_Where am I?_ Melody heard beeping noises all around her, but  her world was black. Her arms, she assumed where somewhere by her side, but she couldn't feel them. They were beyond her ability to control. _What happened?_   Anthony's tear-filled eyes and the trembling barrel of a handgun flashed through her mind, along with the sharp memory of lead tearing through her insides. _I was shot and I'm still alive. I was shot twice_ _in my chest at close range so it's likely I have entrance and exit wounds. Unlikely that it missed vital organs, most likely targets are the heart and lungs, the gun wasn't aimed high enough to hit my liver._ She started to run over possible conditions she could have suffered from the wounds, but quickly gave up. She didn't have enough information to narrow down the possibilities of what happened.

 _Why can't I open my eyes? Am I still under general anesthesia? Did they have to go in again? If I was critical enough at first, the only priority for surgery would have been damage control and then waiting to see if my body was strong enough to withstand more surgery..._ Not for the first time, she wished she could open her eyes, if her doctors knew she was alert and aware to some degree, maybe they'd start filling her in on the details of her treatment. 

Gradually, as Melody laid there, unable to do more than listen to the sound of beeping machines and the sound of her heart and breathing she decided she was going to find a way to mark time. She had no clock and no way of knowing if it was night or day, but she wasn't completely blind, so to speak. She had one thing. The few noises around her that she could hear; the small beeping of machines, the dull thudding of her heart inside her chest and the steady rush of air in and out of her lungs where available to her. They were a way to mark time, however and Melody was going to use them. The passage of time was her only source of information right now, besides what her memories were able to tell her and she intended to make full use of them. _Anything_ was better than just waiting in the darkness. 

And so, she began to count her breathing. It was the easiest one to do, the only thing in her situation right now that she had control over to some degree. Melody couldn't make the machines beep louder, or faster. She couldn't make her heart speed up or slow down, but she did have some say in how she breathed and right now, control, however small was something she desperately craved. So she counted and at first, that was all there was. The sound of her breathing and the mental count running in her head, but eventually, even that changed.

Three-hundred and twenty breaths and feeling began to trickle back through her body. Her arms were in fact at her sides. She could feel them and instantly, Melody tried to move them, wiggle her fingers-anything to indicate that she was alert enough to understand what was happening around her, but her efforts failed. The blackness was still too strong for her break through and free herself.

Five-hundred and eighty-nine breaths. A new sound joined the beeping and the sounds of her still living. The sound of shoes on tile floors.

One thousand and three breaths later and she began to become aware of the dull pressure up her right arm. It wasn't heavy, but something was there, pressed against her skin. _It's probably an IV,_ Melody reasoned as she mapped out her limb in her mind's eye and the points she felt the pressure were usually where IVs were tapped to the skin.

One thousand and five hundred breaths and Melody was aware of pressure on her face. An oxygen tube she was sure. Given where she had been shot, it wasn't a far fetched possibility that she'd damaged at least one of her lungs. Outside the sound of machines, Melody was also starting to hear voices, some familiar, but they were too far away and her mind was too clouded by drugs to make any connections. All she could infer was that they were part of her team, they had to have been standing close to her room for her to even make out the fact that they were there and talking.

Two thousand breaths later and to say Melody was getting sick and tired of being in this darkness, barely able to feel anything and unable to talk or communicate in any way was an understatement. She _needed_ to know what was going on. She _needed_ to know what happened to her in surgery. She needed to know how bad her injuries were and how long she had to recover. She needed to get to a phone too. She needed to talk to James...

Just thinking about him sent a dull throbbing pain through her chest that was unrelated to any sort of physical wound. _I need to hear his voice,_ she thought, wishing she could touch the star necklace he'd given her for her thirty-first birthday. She'd never taken it off since- _Wait. They would've taken it off if I was in surgery...Jewelry isn't allowed on patients when they go in._ _What happened to my necklace?_   A cold, unpleasant feeling spread through Melody at the thought of being without her necklace. She hadn't taken it off in nearly two years. Not since the moment she'd unwrapped that little package without a return address. It had been her one link to James in the time they'd been apart. A real, physical reminder that he'd been real. That he really had loved her. The only part of him she had that wasn't only in her memories. She felt unsettled without it, exposed and vulnerable. 

 _Well, at least now I know what I need to ask about first. If some stupid intern lost that I might actually violate my Hippocratic oath and maim them._ This wasn't some run of the mill trinket that could be replaced at any department store. The necklace was her first birthday present, a gift from a man she loved, the first and only person to know everything about her. _Does he know I'm here?_ She wondered, James's face flashing in her memory. His knowing smile, the bright blue of his eyes and the sound of his gravely voice cut through the anger she'd felt a moment before. _Does he know that I was injured? He might...Sharon said she was going back to Wakanda and she's my emergency contact. He might have heard that she'd left because of me._.. _He has to know. Even if he wasn't given any details he's smart enough to put the pieces together._ _He must be so scared._ Melody's breath stopped a moment, shorted by pain. _I need to talk to him. Just for a moment, to let him know I'm okay...I need to hear his voice. I-._

There was  scraping of a chair across the hard floor. The sound of cloth hushing over skin and then the weight of a person settling into a chair. There was someone here. Something cold pressed into her hand, but it wasn't a something, Melody realized. It was someone, _someone_ was holding her hand and their fingers were like ice. There was only one person in her life that had hands like that. The darkness began to fade out as she clung to his hand, finally able to exert control over her hand for the first time in...she didn't know how long. In the same moment she found her fingers, Melody also found her eyes and she was aware of the thin skin above them moving as she blinked. Light started to flood her vison and a shadowy figure came into view. _You can't really be here,_ Melody realized as her vision began to clear and figure came more into view. _You can't be him._   Her first, hopeful assumption had to be wrong-James was a wanted criminal, he couldn't just stroll into one of the top hospital in New York and visit her. It was impossible.

And sure enough, she was right. It wasn't James at her bedside like she had initially hoped. It was Derrick and he looked like hell. His face, normally clean-shaven was covered in scruffy black hair. Dark circles rested under his blue eyes, his shirt was wrinkled and unkempt which wasn't like him at all. But Melody did notice the joyful smile on his face as he looked at her.

"Hey sleepyhead," he said, his voice gruff and she saw tears filling his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Melody moved her jaw, struggling to form words. Her chest burned with each breath she took, she couldn't breathe deeply. "I was shot." 

"Yeah," Derrick agreed weakly, his other hand reaching up to her face and brushing some hair behind her ear. "You were shot. You've been in a coma for two weeks."

"What?" Melody rasped, her throat was dry. Barren like a desert.

"Here," Derrick let go of her hand and stood up, grabbing a paper cup which had a small straw in it. "Drink."

He held the cup for her and Melody followed the instruction, the water was cool and a relief against her throat. "Thanks," her voice sounded less raspy then and Derrick set the cup down on a tray. "Two weeks?"

"Yeah, you lost a lot of blood when you were shot."

"I was shot in the heart, wasn't I?" That was one of the most logical explanation as to how she could have lost so much blood so quickly and ended up where she was. 

"Yes."

"Where's my necklace?"

"Necklace?"

"Yes, it's a red star."

"I don't know," Derrick answered and Melody's heart dropped into her stomach. "But I'll send someone to look as soon as I can, okay?" Melody didn't say anything. Her necklace was gone. Something that small would be almost impossible to find in this hospital. "Mel, I need you to listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you alright?"

She nodded, but she didn't speak. Melody feared she might start crying if she tried. James's necklace was gone.

"Outside your door, your doctors are waiting. Reid and Jones have been on your case since day one." Reid was a new attending in cardio, not someone Melody knew well, but she'd heard he was good. "They need to ask you some questions."

Melody's chest constricted, that familiar weight increasing tenfold and crushed her lungs. She hadn't even thought about this, she was so focused on getting out of that darkness, so focused on James that she hadn't spared a moment for this. The very thing she'd been avoiding for seventeen years. The moment her entire life fell apart. She wanted to refuse treatment, wanted to turn away the doctors who needed to examine her, but she couldn't, that wasn't an option open to her, not unless she wanted to speed up the process of her entire world falling apart. To refuse treatment, especially after the wake of serious trauma was foolish, irrational-two things that no one associated with Doctor Freezer. 

All Melody wanted to do was run, but logic was chaining her to the floor as she reached into her mind and flipped off her emotions. They wouldn't be her friend here. "Send them in."

***

Several minutes passed, Derrick was ushered to the side of the room, Sharon had been called and was on her way and Melody allowed herself to be poked, prodded and questioned about her pain levels but no one asked about the scars. Not yet anyways. She knew why, they wanted to keep her calm, avoid stress while she was still in such a critical state for recovery. Melody was grateful for it and she saw Derrick approach her again, sitting down on the edge of her bed and grabbing her hand-the gesture should have been comforting to Melody, but it wasn't, it felt too wrong for that. 

She drew back her hand, tears blurring her vision as she looked away from Derrick. "You need to go, Derrick."

"Mel," he said, his voice soft, gentle like it so often was. His fingers curled around her chin, turning her head back towards him. Tears were in his eyes but he was smiling at her. "I know what you're thinking. You think that I won't love you anymore, but you're wrong. I love you and... a few scars won't change that." 

Melody scoffed. It wasn't a few scars. It covered over twenty percent of her body, give or take. The rule of nine usually applied to burns but she figured it worked well enough here. 

"I'm serious," Derrick insisted, blinking and a tear ran down his face. "I still love you. These scars don't change that." His hand moved slowly across the blankets to her hand and his fingers trailed steadily up her arm, towards the portion of her scar that was visible. 

Melody grabbed his hand, stopping his motion. "No, Derrick." She said, her voice straining with tears of her own. "I know you and you're a good man. I know that...how I look wouldn't change how you felt. You'd probably need an adjustment period but you'd be fine. I know that."

"Then what's wrong?"

"You have to go," she echoed her words from earlier. Salt burned her dry lips but the pain wasn't for her, it was for him and the guilt that was pumping through her system along with all the painkillers. 

"Mel-."

"You're a good man," she said, a large lump forming in her throat. "And if I was a different person, you'd be enough for me. I could love you the way you deserve to be loved and we could have been happy together. But I'm not a different person, I'm me." Melody blinked and felt tears burn down her face. "And when I opened my eyes and saw you sitting here, I knew who I wanted to see and he wasn't you."

Derrick blinked once, twice and then sighed, his breath shaky. "You don't love me."

"Not the way you deserve or the way you need. And I was wrong to think I ever could and I will never stop being sorry. Derrick, I am so, so sorry." Melody choked out the words, knowing they would never be enough. Derrick deserved so much better than this, she was a selfish, horrible human being for putting him through this. Derrick didn't say anything in response to this which was ten times worse than if he'd shouted. "I'm so sorry."

"You said that," he muttered, his gaze sliding away from her face. Derrick sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his jacket and he looked back at her one last time. "Have a good life Doctor Frasier." 

And with no further word, he was gone and Melody was alone again. She shut her eyes, breathing as deeply as her healing body would allow her to. This moment of solitude wasn't going to last very long. Soon, any minute now, Sharon would come bursting into the room and even if she wouldn't question Melody now, it would come eventually. The moment couldn't be stopped, only delayed before the inevitable ending hit.

Melody turned over in her bed as much as the wires and tubes attached to her would allow and buried her face in her pillow, tears streaming down her face while the soft cushion muffled the sound. _My life is falling apart; I'm going to lose everything._


	47. Forty-Seven

It wasn't even ten minutes since Derrick had left that Melody had another visitor. Sharon. Her friend stood in the doorway of her room, dressed in jeans and a rumpled blouse. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but it didn't disguise how greasy the strands were. Nor did her attempt at makeup hide the puffy bags under her eyes.

Sharon smiled at her, making her way slowly into the room. "Hey Mel," she approached the seat Derrick had vacated not long before and sat down. "How are you feeling?" She reached across the distance between them and grabbed Melody's hand, the one that didn't' have an IV and squeezed her fingers. 

Melody looked away from her friend. Despite how intelligent Sharon was, she sometimes asked very stupid questions. _I just got shot and my entire is life is falling out from under my feet and some idiot lost my necklace.  How do you think I am?_

"You really scared me," Sharon said, licking her lips which up close, were very chapped. "When I got the call I think I stopped breathing for a few minutes." She blinked and tears ran down her face. "And I haven't stopped being scared for the past two weeks and I know you're not one for public displays of affection but I really want to hug you. Is that okay?" Melody nodded and Sharon all but leapt from her seat and carefully held her as best she could, careful of the wires and tubes still taped to her skin. "Don't ever do this again," Sharon said, her voice trembling and Melody felt tears drip onto her shoulder. "Please. You're my best friend-you can't die."

"Everyone dies eventually," Melody muttered. "But I'll try and make it to a good age alright?"

"You'd better," Sharon mumbled, drawing away and wiping her streaming eyes with the tips of her fingers. "Or I swear I'll hire a medium just to yell at your ghost."

"I don't believe in ghosts," _not that sort anyways._ There were enough ghosts in her life already and they weren't the paranormal sort either. Life was bad enough with just them lurking around and Melody didn't need to add more to it by believing something she had no proof of.

"Yeah," Sharon said, laughing weakly. "I know you don't." She looked down into her lap, tears still moving slowly down her face. They didn't speak for a few minutes, but it didn't matter, the room was loud anyways. Melody could hear the gears whirring in her friends head, trying to map out the scars she now knew of but had never seen. She could hear the questions building in her chest, desperate to be released. She could feel Sharon's eyes boring into her, begging her to open up. She could feel her blue eyes focusing not on her face, but on the scar that was carved into her arm. 

"Stop staring at me," Melody said softly. She hated when people stared-even when they didn't know the truth. It had bothered her, so much when she'd catch James staring at her. Back before they'd fallen it love. Though, at that time, he hadn't know her real story, his intense gaze had left her feeling like a freak. Like a scarred, ugly freak. And now, as Sharon stared at her, the same feeling was creeping through her bones.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Melody shot back, hearing an edge to her voice. Her hands curled into fists on her blankets. "Stop it."

"Mel-."

"I don't like when people stare at me."

Sharon sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to. I just...I can't understand any of this." Her hands twisted in her lap. "I mean when the doctors came out and started asking me all these questions about you and your history, I was just as clueless as they were. I didn't know anything about...what happened to you," she said at last and a bitter sensation rolled through Melody. _Believe me, you don't want to know what happened to me._ "I....I'm your best friend and you never said anything to me. Not once and I don't get it." 

 _Because if you knew the full story you'd probably throw me in jail Agent Carter._ "I don't talk about it," she said flatly as she pulled her blankets a bit farther up to hide the part of the scar that was visible. The gown covered most of the ones of the front and so long as she laid on her back, those were hidden too. Hospital gowns, sadly, where fairly revealing in the back. It made sense as it made them easy for other people to take off, if the need arose but it wasn't good to hide the countless scars on Melody's back.

"Mel-."

"I don't want to talk about it." She _couldn't_ talk about it. This was the only part of her rapidly unraveling life she had some semblance of control over. The _one_ part she could slow down. 

"Mel, you _have_ to talk about it," Sharon squeezed her hand. "Your doctors need to know what happened and so do the police." 

Melody drew her hand away from her friend and turned her head away. "I don't' want to talk about it."

"Mel-."

"Please," she whispered, feeling a tear leak out of her eye. "Just stop." Scared as she was, Melody couldn't bring herself to shout or panic. She was too exhausted, though her body had been recovering for two weeks, four was the minimum time it took to recover from heart surgery. Already, just laying here, Melody was exhausted, physically and emotionally she was no better off. She'd broken Derrick's heart and it had been because she was too foolish to realize she could never give him what he deserved and needed from her. James's necklace, the one link she had to the only person she truly wanted to see was gone. Her life's work, her medical practice was a ticking time bomb. The more questions people asked, the more digging they'd do and soon enough, she was going to lose her license. Between all of that, Melody didn't have the strength to fight. It had drained out of her-what was the point? She couldn't win this. It was impossible.

"What do you want Mel?" Sharon asked, her voice low, a change from the firm but pleading tone she'd used earlier.

Melody shut her eyes. In her heart of hearts, she knew the answer; she wanted to talk to James. Hear his voice again and tell him she was alive and recovering. Tell him that she still loved him and was stupid for leaving. Break down and cry, as she confessed that her entire life was falling into ruin all around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. That was what she wanted, but it was impossible. James couldn't answer a phone call, it was too risky. Those things could be tracked. Steve and some of the other rouge Avengers had clean records. They were heroes to the public and that meant, if they were to be tracked down, the outcome for them would be different. James didn't have that defense. To everyone, (save Melody) James's wasn't a hero. He was criminal and a killer. To risk calling him, putting him on a device that could be tracked or recorded was too dangerous. 

Melody sighed and felt another tear rush down her face. _How do I still have so many of these?_   she wondered. It had felt like she should have cried herself out for at least a month after her return from Wakanda and then again, when she'd begged Anthony to stop what he was doing. And yet it still seemed she had more to give. "Just stay," she whispered, "please. I don't want to be alone right now." _You might not stay when you know the truth. Stay for just a little while longer. Please._

"Okay," Sharon's hand crept over hers again and this time she didn't draw away. Sharon squeezed her hand. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."

"Thank you." _But you won't. As soon as you know everything you won't be able to stay. I doubt you'll even look at me the same way ever again. Even now, the way you regard me is changing, I can feel it._ Melody's eyes began to close, tears still burning behind her eyelids. _I haven't lost everything yet, but it's only a matter of time._  


	48. Forty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter and the previous one were supposed to be combined, however, I felt it was too awkward, hence the spilt. So here's another upload! Enjoy!

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes okay?" Sharon had assured Melody of this at least ten times already in the last few minutes, but she let it go. The amount of times Sharon was going to fuss over her where numbered and she figured she could cherish it while she could. "I'm so sorry. In fact, I think I could-."

"Sharon," Melody said flatly. "You can step outside for a bit and make a damn phone call. I'll still be here when you get back." She was still apologizing for the fact that work was still pestering her. It made sense to her-counter terrorism was like emergency surgery, you couldn't just wait to handle it. 

"Are you sure?  Because I am more than okay with ignoring my boss."

"If you do that he's going to put you on scut for a month."

"What?" Sharon gave her a blank look.

Melody felt a blush rise in her face. "Slang term here, means menial tasks. Like paperwork." Sharon made a face, as Melody knew she would. Desk life was not well suited to her friend, not at all. "Go and answer his thirty voicemails-it's okay. I'll be fine."

Sharon still didn't look so sure about that, but her mouth set into a determined line. "I'll just be down the hall, send a nurse after me if you need me for any reason."

"Noted," Melody replied, "but unlikely. See you soon." She smiled at Sharon who returned it, albeit weakly and with one hush of a closing curtain Melody was alone for the first time in four hours. Two of which she'd been asleep for. Sharon hadn't left her in all that time, not once. _I'm going to miss her._   She thought as she shifted against her pillows and shut her eyes. They were achy now, dry from all the tears she'd shed earlier. She hadn't been able to stop them, though she had tried nearly everything. The only route she had taken was the switch in her mind, the dark little place she'd discovered when she was twelve years old and holding a gun under John's chin.

 _I died that day,_ she reflected. _The part of me that was a child, that believed in people, believed in good people-died._ And she'd never been able to get it back. That would have been Anthony's fate, had he succeeded in his plan. No one had yet told her what became of the kid, but it didn't fully matter at the moment. The fact remained that he was still exactly that-a kid. He didn't have to know his dark corners the intimate way Melody did-in the end, Anthony, not his father had won the battle. Anthony was going to walk away from the ordeal whole. Damaged yes, but whole. He was going to be okay. _But I won't be. I never really have been, but now I'll be even farther from it._ In her soul though, Melody knew if she had the chance, she wouldn't have done anything different. It was too late to save herself, there was nothing left she could have done for that. Anthony Doyle was not her though; he'd been through a hell all his own, but he didn't have to escape it with stains on his soul. He'd had a chance and Melody couldn't leave him to die like she had. 

Melody sighed, the familiar weight of her secrets crushing her lungs. One of them was gone now, but two remained. James and the real story behind John Fraise's death. The last one was going to be ripped out soon and she had a feeling that would be when the final nail was placed onto the coffin where her medical career would be laid to rest. No patient in their right mind would want her to operate on their loved ones if they knew what she was really capable of.

There was a hushing of the curtain sliding back and Melody felt a smile come to her face despite the grief and dread that was polluting her body. "Short phone call," she said, "boss feeling merciful today?"

"Hello Melody."

Her eyes snapped open and Melody sat upright, chest constricting as she saw who'd come into her room. It wasn't Sharon. It was Moira. They hadn't seen each other in nine years and time had taken it's toll, her short, curly hair was more grey than blonde from the last time they'd laid eyes on each other. A hesitant smile was on her berry-colored lips and her feet shifted on the title floor. 

Melody glared back at her, jaw clenching. "I don't need a liver, kidney or a bone marrow transplant," she whispered and her voice was so cold, that she could almost feel the temperature dropping in the room. "So what the hell are you doing here Moira?"

Moira Frasier's hesitant smile flickered. "The hospital called me, they told me you where shot," her voice broke. "Melody Rose Frasier what in God's name where you thinking?"

"What were you thinking when you decided to come here?" she shot back, the words stiff and colder still. "What made you think I'd want to see you?"

"You were shot," Moira repeated again, fiddling with the strap of her black handbag. That, along with the crisp blouse and that it was Sunday all suggested she'd come from a service at her church. "Children need their mothers when they're sick and I know you hate me, but I'm _still_ your mother whether you like it or not. And you're still my daughter and I still love you, no matter what you feel for me." Her lower lip trembled

 _Really?_ Melody thought, venom eroding the cold anger she'd felt moments before. "I've been sick before," she said softly, her voice trembling with rage and her heart began to beat hard and fast in her chest. "I've been injured before."

Pain flashed across Moira's face and she looked away from Melody, sighing heavily. "I know that. And I'm sorry. I've never stopped being sorry."

"Is that all you can say?" Melody asked, "'Sorry'? That's really the best you can do?"

"There's nothing else I can do," Moira said, squaring her shoulders. Melody had never seen her use that gesture before, in her experience, when faced with confrontation, Moira Frasier didn't stand strong, she cowered in fear. "I can't go back in time, I can't change what happened. I _wish_ I could. I _would_ if I could. I would do better, I'd be a better mother to you then, but it's not possible. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry that all I can do is say I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took so long for me to chose you but I'm here now Melody. I'm here and I'm trying." She moved towards her, the hard-soles of her shoes clicking on the floor and she grabbed Melody's hand imploring but she yanked her hand away.

"If you ever touch me again," she growled, breathing hard and blood roaring her ears. "I swear to God I'll break your arm."

"Melody-."

"Sorry isn't enough," Melody said, her mind flashing with hundreds of memories. Sorry didn't erase the fear she'd felt for over a decade every time she walked through the doors of her own house. Sorry didn't take away the nights she'd cried herself to sleep, in agony and unable to do anything  about it.  Sorry didn't get rid of the scars on her back and chest. Sorry didn't stop the nightmares she still had. Sorry didn't give her back the twenty-three years she'd spent being terrified to touch people. Sorry didn't take back the pain she'd felt when James told her she was beautiful and all the times she hadn't been able to believe him. 

"Melody," Moira's voice was small and Melody saw tears leaving black streaks of mascara down her face. "Please-."

"You don't get to ask me for _anything._ " Melody spat. "How many times did I _beg_ you to leave John? How many times Moira?"

"I know and-."

 _You don't know anything!_   Moira still didn't understand, she still wanted to bury the past like it was nothing. Once a coward always a coward. "How many nights did I have to scrub my own blood off the kitchen floor, _barely_ able to _move_ because my back was ripped apart _again_? How many times did you hear me _scream_? How many times did John hold me up by my throat and I passed out because I _couldn't breathe_? How many times did he strap me to the fucking _dinner table_ and cut me open just to stitch me back together again? How often did that happen Moira? Tell me, were you just too drunk or did you just not care? Or was it both? I still don't know."

"I cared Melody, I did. I was just afraid." Moira spoke quickly, afraid to get cut off. If she thought her words would reassure Melody she was dead wrong, they did nothing to calm her down, they only enraged her further.

" _You_ were _afraid_?" Melody said, words dripping with sarcasm as anger boiled her blood. "God I wonder what that was like! Oh wait! I _do_ know what that's like. I was _afraid_ to go home every day after school. I was _afraid_ every time _your husband_ walked into the house. I was _afraid_ he was going to _kill_ me. And he _almost_ did, or were you too drunk to remember that happening too?" 

"I remember Melody," Moira was weeping now, tears smearing her makeup all over her face. "I've remembered everything every day of my life and it's my biggest regret. If I could do anything over-."

"But you can't. You can't change the past anymore than I can get rid of all these scars. Such a pretty daughter you got, huh Moira? Aren't I just lovely?" Moira winced again and Melody relished in it. _How does it feel?_ she wanted to ask. _How does it feel when someone who's supposed to love you watch you fall to pieces and do nothing?_

"M-Melody-..."

"You didn't care about me then," Melody jerked her gaze away from Moira who was starting to tremble. "You have no right to care about me now. Get out." There were only two people who had a right to be here now, one of them was down the hall calling her pissed off boss, another was in Wakanda. 

"Melody-."

"It's Doctor Frasier." She said, Moira didn't have a right to call her by her full name, nor a shortened version of it. That implied affection and she'd proven time and again she had none for her daughter. "Get out before I call security and have you removed."

Moira backed away, her footsteps accompanied by the soft sobs escaping her. Pathetic, like always. Time might have changed that fact that she was a drunk, but at her core, Moira Frasier was still the same woman who'd left Melody to die in her own home and then left her to face the world alone after her husband died. "Melody," she whispered. "It's okay if you hate me. I'll never stop being your mother and-."

She shouldn't have risen to the bait, but Melody had to. She had no more control, years and years of unsaid words were bubbling up in her mind and coming out of her mouth. There was one more thing she had to say, one last thing she needed to know. "If you're my mother, then why didn't you love me?"

The questions burned Melody's throat but still, she had to know. Unless some medical crisis arose for the woman, Melody was going to make sure their paths never crossed again. This was the question that had hurt her the most throughout her life. Moira hadn't been much of a mother, but she'd never hurt Melody the way John had. She'd said she loved her-something John never had. It wasn't true, actions spoke louder than words, but that wasn't enough for Melody. She had to know why, know now while she had the chance to ask.

Moira stopped walking but the sound of her sniffling didn't cease. "I _did_ love you. I love you now."

"Then why did you leave me there?" Melody asked, the anger draining from her and being replaced with the raw, unflitered pain she had avoided for so long. "Why didn't you chose me?" 

"Melody, I-."

"Forget it," suddenly, on the precipice of the answer, Melody found she didn't need it. It didn't matter now. It was all too late. "Just go."

"Melody-."

"Go. I don't want you here."

Moira's lower lips trembled again and as she left, Melody watched her go. Maybe she would live a better life now that she was sober, but even if she did, Melody wanted no place it in. There was no way for that to work. Too much had happened, too much hurt remained. There could be an truce, an uneasy peace, but not forgiveness. Not for her part anyways. Melody wasn't that strong.

As Moira left, Melody noticed that someone was outside. Sharon and she was holding her phone, the black screen visible and tears running down her face. "Mel..." she hurried into the room, her voice hushed and her shaking hand curling near her mouth. "Mel, oh God. I never...I should never have told you to talk to her, I didn't...Mel." Her blue eyes filled with tears and her hand clamped over her mouth. "I..."

Melody pressed a button on her bedside and there was a whir of machinery as the bed began to sit upright. "You're my family," she whispered. "And I love you. And you look like you need another hug." Melody lifted her arms as best she could with the IV and monitors attatched to her. "Come here."

Sharon shook from head to foot and grasped Melody in a hug that was more like clinging to her than anything but it wasn't bothersome. "It's okay," Melody whispered into Sharon's shoulder though it was a lie. Nothing was okay, not really and it wouldn't be now that one of secrets was fully out in the open; the truth about who John Friaser was. But she'd deny that truth for now, for Sharon's sake. This was the one truth she'd be able to comfort her through as it came to light, the same couldn't be said for later. "You're my family," Melody said again, her eyes burning. _And you always will be, even if I'm not yours anymore._


	49. Forty-Nine

" _Nightingale_!" Bucky's voice ripped at his throat as he woke up in the dark apartment, heart slamming in his chest and cold sweat dripping down his face. He blinked, the room coming into focus and Bucky began to calm down, though his entire body was still shaking.

"Bucky?" Steve's groggy voice reached him and Bucky scanned the darkness and sure enough, Steve's outline came into focus and then his sleepy face. His hair was stuck up on one side-he'd been asleep until this point. And once again, Bucky's nightmares had woken him up. 

"Sorry for waking you," Bucky muttered, running his head through his hair which was sticky with sweat. His heart began to slow down in his chest, but it was still way too rapid to be within normal limits. 

"It's fine," Steve yawned, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "It was about Mel again, wasn't it?"

Bucky groaned, still hearing the bang of a gun and a sticky sensation of blood on his hand. "Yeah. It was." 

"You want to talk about it?"

Honestly, the answer was no, but Steve would worry if he evaded the question."Same as last night and the night before that," he replied dully. Bucky's nightmares had taken a new pattern for the last  month, ever since he'd heard Melody had been shot. He'd hoped after hearing she was awake that the dream would stop, but now, two weeks later and it was still going strong. The dream was always the same. Some blank space, usually a long hallway with Melody's voice echoing around him, he'd turn around and see her standing there, smiling at him and reaching out. He'd move and get close, but not before a gun went off and left blood blossoming over her shirt, right where her heart was. It always ended that way and he couldn't get it out of his head. This, in some ways, was worse than the dreams when it was his finger on the trigger, when he had no memory of her at all. In these dreams he knew what was going on all too well, he was right there, he loved her and he was helpless as she bleed out in his arms.

"Bucky, she's going to be fine." Steve sighed, looking over his shoulder to face him. "You know that. She'll be out of the hospital any day now."

"I know." But the dream was still there and he didn't know why. It still kept coming back to plague him almost every night. It almost made Bucky miss the nightmares that featured Hydra and he was aware of how messed up that was. 

"You alright?"

"I'm fine," Bucky lied. "Go back to sleep." Steve had taken to staying with him over the last few weeks, in case Sharon called with an update about Melody. It wasn't exactly a comfortable arrangement but Steve never complained once. If he was being honest with himself, Bucky was glad his friend was so close by, he was glad he had someone to talk to about Melody and fear that had been eating away at him from the moment Sharon got that phone call a month ago. It had helped a lot, it hadn't taken away the fear, but it had helped him to manage it. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it was just a dream." Bucky pulled the covers a little farther up, suddenly cold. Dream or not, the fear was still pretty real. It had almost been a reality. "Go back to bed, I'll see you in the morning." The bed frame creaked as Steve got up and soon, Bucky heard the shuffling of blankets and then the steady sound of his breathing. Steve was asleep but even as Bucky shut his eyes, he knew he wasn't going to sleep. The image of Melody's bullet riddled chest was still imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

***

Bucky inhaled the rich smell of his coffee, the mug warm in his hand. As he'd predicted, he had not been able to fall back asleep after his nightmare. Steve was still fast asleep on the couch, not that he was surprised by that. His constant string of nightmares woke both of them up almost every night. Bucky was used to it, but Steve had no such claim. 

 _Thank God for whoever invented coffee_ , he thought, swallowing a mouthful of the hot, bitter liquid. It didn't taste that good but it certainly woke him up and for that he was grateful. He needed to stay awake during the daylight hours if he ever wanted to have any hope of sleep at night. Maybe if he was worn out enough, he'd be too tired to dream. That wouldn't be so bad. A few hours of pure exhaustion for several of restful sleep.

"Bucky?" Steve yawned and stumbled off the couch, bags under his eyes and his hair a complete mess. "You awake?"

"No you're talking to my ghost," Bucky replied, "you want some coffee?"

"Is that a question?" Steve groaned, making his way into the kitchen and grabbing a glass from the sink.  Filling his cup, he yawned again. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long, ten minutes maybe." Bucky took another sip of coffee, the caffeine spiking his veins and speeding up his heart. "Sleep well?"

"Better than expected," Steve replied with a shrug. "Still tired though. You?"

"About the same, thank God we have coffee." He smiled over the rim of his cup and the grin was returned, but only briefly. "What?"

"I was thinking, the other night after you woke up," Steve looked down into his coffee. "Melody's been awake for two weeks now and she still won't explain the scars."

Bucky shrugged. "I doubted she would, she never wanted anyone to know." _And I've already told you I'm not saying anything so you're wasting your time._  

"Yeah, I know that. So why'd she tell you?"

Bucky had been waiting to be asked that one for awhile. He'd barely known Melody compared to Sharon, at face value, they had nothing in common and no reason to trust each other and yet, out of everyone she'd trusted him. Anyone would wonder why, anyone would ask and now the moment had come. "She lied to me same as she lied to everyone else from the moment we met."

"And then she fell in love with you?" Steve said that as though he was still having trouble believing it. Bucky didn't really blame him. He and Melody weren't exactly a match people could expect. 

"No. Just...Well, the place I was hiding was her parents house and because I was there, she was too. Kept me company so I wouldn't go crazy."

"She owns a house?"

"Her mother transferred ownership of the place to her when she was eighteen."

"I didn't know that."

"She doesn't talk about it. She hates that place." Just being there had been hell, a haunted home with reminders of a life Melody had desperately tried to leave behind. 

"Then why does she still own it? Why doesn't she sell that place? I mean...if that was where everything happened why keep it?"

"Too many questions, too many stories to keep track of. It's proven useful in her dealings with S.H.I.E.L.D honestly, take your pick. Anyone of them are very probable answers. I've never really asked her why she kept the place."

"Okay," Steve sighed and looked over at Bucky. "So how does that house relate to her telling you everything when she wouldn't even tell her best friend?"

"Well, being there was hard for her. Really hard. And she sort of snapped." That was the only word he could think to describe that night. 

"Snapped?"

"She went out of control, everything sort of overwhelmed her and she just went crazy.  And I saw it happen. Eventually she passed out but-."

"Passed out."

"It takes a lot of energy to destroy an entire set of dishes and a picture frame."

Steve's eyes widened. "You're kidding right?"

"No."

"I can't imagine her doing that," Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't know her that well but I just..."

"I know," Bucky said. "And when I tried to stop her, I saw her arm. There was a scar there. I confronted her about the incident later that same night and this time...well I guess Melody knew what happened wasn't something she could just explain anyway or tell me to ignore." _She could have kicked me out, but she didn't do that._ Why Bucky had several theories, because she couldn't walk away when she could save someone, because maybe even then, she'd loved him too. He didn't know and now he'd never be able to ask. "So she told me, but not before making me promise to never tell anyone."

Steve was quiet for a moment, head hanging as he considered this. "You know, if Sharon ever finds out that you knew, she might actually kill you."

Bucky shrugged. "She was ready to kill me the moment she figured out that I was in love with Melody." He'd never said that aloud to Steve, not since the night he'd come clean about it. It felt good to say, like taking in a breath of fresh spring air. 

"Don't take it personally," Steve told him, "Sharon's really overprotective when it comes to her."

Bucky grinned. That was a bit of an understatement. "I know, but I'm glad. I'm glad Melody has Sharon. She needs her family." He drained the last dregs of his coffee. "I'm going to take a shower and if Sharon calls again, ranting about Melody, tell her to back off on her."

"Bucky, I value my health and safety, she will-."

"Melody is terrified right now and the constant stream of people asking 'why' and 'how' are making it worse. She'll talk when she's ready to do that, not before. The more Sharon tries to force her the harder she's going to fight."

"We're not talking about you." 

"I know," Bucky grit his teeth as he set his glass in the dishwasher. "But it doesn't change the fact that when you go through something terrible, people trying to force you into talking about it-." 

A shrill ring cut Bucky off and Steve grabbed his phone. He grit his teeth. Modern tech had it's advantages but sometimes they were so inconvenient. "It's Sharon."

Bucky's annoyance with cell phone's faded on the spot. "Put her on speaker."

"Why?" Steve asked, looking up from the ringing phone. 

"If she's going to talk about Melody and her secrets, which  I assume she will, I'm going to pass on my advice."

"That's not-."

"She needs to hear it," _and Melody needs her to lay off._ Good intentioned as Sharon no doubt was, it didn't' mean it was what was best for Melody and someone needed to tell her that. Someone needed to remind her that she wasn't the only person who loved Melody. 

Steve regarded him intensely for a moment. "No more than five minutes," he warned. "You know phones can be tracked. I don't think it's wise to stay on longer than you have to."

"I know," Bucky replied as Steve tapped the screen. 

"Sharon-."

The agent's panicked voice cut across Steve. "Mel's missing."


	50. Fifty

"Missing?" Steve repeated, looking up at Bucky who had probably turned very pale. It made sense. His heart had quit beating. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she was discharged from the hospital this morning and now nobody has any idea where she is." Sharon made an exasperated noise. "I have called and texted her nonstop, she hasn't answered me and she lives with her phone in her back pocket. There's no way she doesn't have it. I've paged her to, thanks to some of nurses here, but she's not responding to that either."

 _Oh shit._ Bucky's silent heart dropped into his stomach hearing that. Melody always had her cell phone with her, but her pager was her life. She always had it, always answered it and it didn't matter what she was doing. He knew that very well. 

"Calm down," Steve said in a firm, calm tone. It was probably for both their benefit. "Have you checked her apartment? Did anyone see her come home? Have you contacted the police?"

"Yes, I've contacted the police and I'm standing in her apartment right now. They're looking now but I don't think this is something they can handle."

Bucky found his voice. "Why?" He had no idea where he'd found the ability to speak, but he had and Steve was looking at him with wide eyes. The message in the blue iris were loud and clear, they said: _what the hell are you doing?_  

"Because at first glance there's nothing wrong here. No sign of a struggle or forced entry."

"Then maybe she's somewhere else? What about that boyfriend of hers?"

"Mel broke things off with him the same day she came out of the coma. She's not with him. Besides, he's already been questioned. Derrick doesn't seem to know anything."

If this had been an ordinary day, hearing that Melody was no longer with that other surgeon would've made Bucky feel a bit smug. Hearing it now just made him angry-had he done something to her? Sharon's tone was a bit disbelieving, like she wasn't sure of the consensus of the police force on the issue of Derrick's potential involvement. 

"So nothing's off at her apartment?" Steve continued. "And her ex was cleared?"

"I never said nothing was wrong. Her stethoscope is gone."

"Maybe she left it at work," Steve offered reasonably but Sharon scoffed.

"No, she has two stethoscopes. She leaves one here."

"Why?"

"Because I showed up half dead on her doorstep once," Sharon said icily. "It's never gone from this place, ever. And the picture of her and I from college, that's gone too. Proof she knows a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Well, a former agent anyways." Her words were tense, Bucky couldn't see Sharon, but in his mind's eye, he could see her scanning her surroundings, looking for answers when all she could see so far were questions. And each was more troublesome than the last.

Bucky felt goosebumps rise over his skin. The missing photo was proof Melody knew an agent, the stethoscope was proof she was a doctor. The photo provided her face and probable cause to assume she might know something, the stethoscope gave a hint to her occupation and narrowed down the  list of locations she might leave late at night. If she had her degrees on the wall, they'd narrow things down even further, surgeons didn't work in clinics. They worked in hospitals and given the location of her apartment, it narrowed down the list even more. People always lived close to where they worked if they could and Melody had  no family. Her apartment would be proof enough of that. No photographs of her parents.

Bucky began to tremble and he leaned back against the sink. He knew these signs. He'd used them all himself for decades when he was out on a mission. Find the potential target, confirm you had the right person, watch for a while, gather information and then strike. This had all the makings of a trap. But by who? Bucky's first thought when to Hydra, they had infiltrated S.H.E.I.L.D. sometime ago. It'd make sense they were tracking down anyone with ties to it. Anyone who they thought might have information they wanted. They'd do anything to get it from her too...Bile began to rise up in his throat, but he bit it back. Hydra was the worst of what could've done this, but they weren't the only suspects either. Stark and the lawmakers behind the Accords could've had a hand in it too. 

Sharon's ties to Steve were fairly well known (even if the full extent was still a secret) and her friendship with Melody was common knowledge to those who knew either woman. Questioning Sharon directly with no proof would've been too tricky. She was a high-ranking official in her own right, not someone they could question without causing uproar in several departments they had to work with. Melody was another matter entirely. She wasn't an official person working for the government, she was a civilian. Questioning her without proof wouldn't create a scandal, not if they staged it to look like something else, like maybe a kidnapping. They could pin the acts of any terrorist group they wanted then and walk away fine.

 _Oh God,_ Bucky's knees jerked and he found himself grabbing onto the counter for support. His head began to pound as fear and anger mixed inside him like gasoline and fire. _I don't know who did this, he thought,_ his tongue tasting oddly like metal. _But I'm going to find out._  

"Sharon, I have to go. We'll talk later, keep me updated." And there was a low tone as the line when dead. "Bucky, I know what you're thinking and you need to stop thinking it."

"Can you read minds now?" He asked, shoving himself upright, his legs no longer weak.

"I can read you. You're not going anywhere."

"Try to stop me." Bucky challenged, looking over his shoulder and glaring at Steve. "I beat you once, I can do it again." Throwing that in his face was cruel, but he didn't have time to mince words. In disappearing person cases, time was precious  and he'd already lost enough already. 

Steve winced, but his hard expression came back a moment later. "You had two arms then and I wasn't fighting that hard to start with. You can't leave here."

"What else can I do? She's gone, she's been missing for at least eight hours," as that was the time difference in Wakanda to New York as far as Bucky knew. His numbers might have been a bit off but they were certainly in the ballpark. "And given what they've already found-."

"Which is barely anything," Steve cut in but Bucky ignored him. They were wasting time.

"And what she's already been involved with in the past, it's not unreasonable to guess what might have happened there! No one knows Hydra better than me Steve-."

"And they're still wired into your head in case you forgot," Steve cut over him again, his words short and clipped and his entire body taught, like he was ready for a fight. "If Hydra is behind this-and we _don't know_ for sure that they are, you won't be any help to anyone then. If you found Melody they could make you _kill_ her." Bucky stepped away from his friend, as though he'd been hit and now Steve wasn't the only one who was tense. Every muscle in his body was starting to pull as tightly as piano wires.

"And let's take Hydra out for a moment," Steve continued. " _You're_ still a criminal.  If they send a SWAT team after me you, they're orders will be to kill. You said it was a good strategy and you're not wrong about that. You're good Bucky, maybe the best but you still got caught remember? They had the numbers on you can you couldn't outrun all of them."

"T'challa slowed me down a bit," Bucky replied through gritted teeth. His jaw was clenched so tightly pain radiated through his entire skull. "That won't be an issue this time."

"No but the brainwashing might be. Or being spotted in the streets and then having the entirety of New York City SWAT hunting you down. You go out there and you're dead pal, or worse. And even if that wasn't an issue, it's still an eight hour flight back to the States. That's almost two days the police will be looking for her, who's to say they won't find her before then?"

"Hydra doesn't let people be found."

"We don't even know that Hydra's a player! Maybe it was just some run of the mill criminal. You ever consider that?"

"A run of the mill criminal who just _happens_ to target one of the best surgeons in the United States, who has ties to a known government agent and said agent also has ties to you. Some fucking odds those are," Bucky growled. His life had been hell for a good portion of it, but hell had taught him a few things. Like when things looked just too neat and simple that was because they were made to look that way. He'd done the exact same thing when he'd killed Howard Stark. 

Steve shut his eyes and sighed deeply, his chest heaving. "I know, but you can't jump to conclusions this fast. Sharon worries about Mel like there's no tomorrow. She always has. The woman didn't pick up her phone for six hours once because she was in surgery and by that time Sharon had already sent Sam and I out to look for her. She was in the hospital the whole time."

"She's not there now," Bucky shot back. "And believe me, she's either there or at home. She doesn't have much of a life outside of that."

"I'm not saying it doesn't look weird, I'm just saying you need to wait until you know more and-."

"And then you'll stop wasting my time and get out of my way?" Bucky interrupted, fingers clenching into a fist. Part of him, the part that was half-blind with anger and fear was tempted to knock Steve out. The part of him that was still logical was the only thing holding him back and even that was starting to lose it's hold on him. 

"No. I'm saying I'm going to give the police twenty-four hours to figure this out and if they don't, I'm going back to New York to start looking for some answers on my own. And you, you're going to stay here and keep out of trouble. I don't think Mel would be happy if she found out you went and got yourself killed looking for her. Would she?"

"You're trying to keep me here because I'm a criminal," Bucky said, already picturing Melody's face if she found out he was dead. "And yet it's okay for you to go? You're a war criminal now Steve."

"Yeah," he crossed his arms. "I am. But if I'm caught the orders will be to take me alive. I'll be thrown in prison sure, but I'll be alive. Maybe I'll even break out. But even if I don't my odds are still way better than yours." Steve sighed and uncrossed his arms. "I know you're scared Bucky, I know you love her, but I need you to wait. I need you to trust in other people and give them a little time. Just a day, that's all I'm asking."

People couldn't be trusted, but Steve wasn't people, he was just one person. _I can have a little faith in him I guess_. _I can try_. "One day," Bucky said stiffly. _And then I'll figure out what to do. I'll decide to stay or to go._


	51. Fifty-One

Bucky had no idea how he was able to stay sane and stay quiet for the rest of that day. He smiled when people smiled at him, he spoke when he was spoken to and managed to act as though nothing was wrong. Quiet an accomplishment considering the circumstances. A sense of hopeless had settled over him as the hours wore on, like he was cursed. Bucky had fallen in love with an incredible woman, someone who understood him, loved him flaws and all and never gave up on him and then he'd had to leave her. They were reunited two years later and then she'd left him again. A month after that she'd gotten shot and after a month in the hospital, she was fully recovered but now, instead of her going back to her home and living her life, she was missing.

 _Am I being punished?_   Bucky wondered as he slipped off his jeans and crawled into bed, weak with exhaustion and fear. _I've done so many terrible things. Is this the punishment? Loosing her? Does Melody have to pay for my sins?_ Nothing answered him as he settled onto the soft mattress and crawled under the covers, cold crawling over his skin the way mist crawled over the jungle outside. And somehow, Bucky couldn't fathom the reason, after some time, his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

***

_"James?" A voice was calling to him. Melody. Bucky turned around and sure enough, in this blank stretch of a hallway, there she was. Her shoulder-length hair was tucked behind one ear, her dark blue scrubs peeking out from underneath the white coat she was wearing._

_"Melody," a smile pulled at his face and the expression mirrored on hers. Though the effect was far more pleasing. The usual weariness that she seemed to wear faded out, her eyes shined brighter  than ever. "You're alright!"_

_She smile even wider. "James," she held out her hand to him and Bucky wasted no more time. He moved, closing the distance between them._

_"Nightingale," he whispered into her hair. The mixing scents of the hospital, soap and stainless steel were stuck to her from  her stay. "Melody, don't ever do that to me again." His throat grew thick, recalling all the fear that had become his constant companion over the last month. The nagging, empty feeling that hit him every time he had to stop and consider what the world would be like if Melody Frasier wasn't living in it._

_"James," she held tightly to him, fingers curling into his shirt. "James."_

_"It's alright," he held her as best he could with his remaining arm. "It's going to be fine." Bucky couldn't even imagine the hell she'd been through after waking up, the way._ Bang _._ Bang _. His heart slammed to a stop in his chest, the peaceful moment shattering like glass. Melody's legs gave out and warm, sticky blood spattered his chest even as two bullet wounds blossomed across the face of her scrubs and coat._

_"Melody!"  Bucky lowered her to the ground, trying to  stem the flow with his hand but it was no good. She'd been hit over her heart. "Melody, hang on, you're going to be alright." But it was a lie. Bucky could feel Death's shadow creeping over her, the color was leeching out of her face,  her breathing was labored, each breath of air was a battle._

_"James," she whispered, blood bubbling between her lips as Melody choked out the words. "You need to wake up."_

_"What?"_

_Melody opened her mouth to say more, but no sound came. Her chest stopped moving and the light that was always in her eyes faded out. She was dead._

_***_

Bucky opened his eyes, the darkness of the apartment reassuring after his well-lit nightmare. He sat upright and slumped forward almost instantly, pinching the bridge of his nose. _She could be dying right now. She could be locked up, Hydra could be torturing her just like they did me and-._

"James, are you alright?"

 _I don't believe it_ , but even as the thought crossed his mind, his head snapped upwards towards the source of the voice. _It can't be_. Though the room was dark, Bucky's' eyes were adjusting and there was no mistaking who was standing by his bed.

Melody. 

"What..." His jaw dropped. He hadn't seen her in two months and she looked even more exhausted than ever. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a small clip, but it didn't disguise how greasy the strands were. Her face was pale, reflecting the dim light of the moon and the circles under her eyes looked like bruises. How long had it been since she'd slept? "Melody?"

"Hi." She smiled at him, but her mouth quivered half a second later. "I know you must be surprised to see me here-."

"Understatement," Bucky breathed,  "I thought you were missing."

Her smiled faded entirely and she tugged a strand of hair that had been too short to reach the clip. "Oh, I guess good news travels fast. Sharon already noticed I was gone." Her hand left her face, resting in the hollow of her throat, her fingers curled at the skin, but there was nothing there.

He was about to comment on it, his stunned brain barely able to process anything else. But Melody seemed to notice the same thing and her hand dropped to her side and curled into a fist. "I lost my necklace," she whispered, hanging her head. "When I was shot, it got ripped off when they torn apart my clothes. I tried to find it but I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

"It's just a necklace," Bucky muttered, disbelief numbing his entire body. He wanted to move. He _needed_ to move, but his nerves had been disconnected. He was frozen. 

Melody's fingers curled towards her check again, searching for the familiar object that was no longer there. "I know it's late," she said, her voice breathless and her head down. She wouldn't meet his eye. "And I know you probably feel weird seeing me, after everything that's happened but...I needed to see you again."

"What?" he repeated, Out of everything she could have said or done, this was by far the last thing Bucky had expected to hear. He expected her shrill, panic-ridden voice as she worried about the secrets she'd tried so hard to hide for so long were now exposed. He expected to hear her fragile voice asking what she should do when they started looking into John's death, now realizing there was a motive to kill him. But not this.

"I died that day," Melody said, her shoulders shaking as she held a hand over her mouth. "When I was shot, I knew I was dying. I lost a lot of blood, I could hear the doctors shouting, one of them said my pulse was fading. I was dying and I _all_ I could think about was you. When I started coming out of the coma, I could feel someone holding my hand and at first, I was happy because they were cold. I thought it might have been you but when I opened my eyes I knew I was wrong and I was disappointed. I was awake, I knew people were going to question me about everything and I didn't even _think_ about that. I just wanted to see you. I _needed_ to see you again."

The numb feeling started to fade from Bucky's limbs and he threw the covers off his legs. "Melody," he said, getting to his feet. The floor was ice cold against his skin. Bucky held out his arm, "Come here." She finally looked up at him and her eyes were brimming with tears. Melody dropped her arms from their defensive position across her chest and flung herself at him, sobbing and shaking as she held onto him. "Sh," he whispered into her hair, wishing, not for the first time that he had two hands to hold her with. "It's okay, I'm right here."

"James," she choked and Bucky winced. He didn't like his name at the best of times, hearing it said in just a heart-broken way was even worse. "My life is falling apart."

Bucky's heart twisted in his chest. For a moment, he shut his eyes, breathing deeply and just held her a little tighter. Then he opened his eyes and drew away from her, enough to see her face. "Melody, look at me." She trembled against him, but did as he asked. Up close, she didn't look so tired as he'd first believed. More sad and scared than anything. Not that Bucky could blame her for it. He knew that look well, it was the same one he saw in the mirror after DC. After he'd woken up and gotten his memories back. His world had shattered. He'd realized who he'd been, who he'd loved and what he'd lost. Now, Melody was going through the same thing, at least in the ways that mattered. Fear and sorrow were wrestling inside her the same way they had in Bucky back then.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm right here," Bucky let his hand draw up her side, following the curve of her side for a moment before lifting his hand entirely and running his fingers across her tear-stained face. "And if you want to talk, then I have all night to listen." 

Melody smiled and more tears streamed from her eyes. "It's a long story. Are you sure?"

"Believe me Nightingale," Bucky said, wiping away her tears again, his mind flashing back to the ring in his nightstand. "You're the one thing I'm sure about."


	52. Fifty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update! Enjoy! And thank you so, so much to everyone who's been leaving comments! I have a blast reading them! :)

A career as a trauma surgeon had taught Melody many things. It had taught her how to asses injuries and decide what had to be treated first, it had taught her how to suture so fast her hands sometimes went numb and it had taught her how to keep people calm in a crisis. It had also taught her one universal truth; after a long, hard day the only thing anyone wanted was a moment of peace. And since the moment she had decided to save Anthony Doyle, save him the way no one had saved her, Melody had a month's worth of long, hard days and no peace to speak of. That is, until now.

Melody slid under the covers of the bed, the fabric still warm to the touch and she rolled onto her side to look at James. They were just barely touching, his leg was brushing against her foot and with a slow, almost lazy motion, his hand sought hers on her pillow. Melody sighed, feeling her wet eyelashes dust her cheeks. Finally, a moment of peace.

She opened her eyes, staring at their intertwined hands. Her fingers were dwarfed by James's and his skin was rough with callouses. "Where do you want me to start?"

"At the beginning would be great," James replied, smiling at her, his blue eyes twinkling. "Sharon kept Steve updated when you were in the hospital, but we never got that many details. She never stayed on the line for long, she was always hurrying back to you."

That Melody was aware of. Jones, who'd visited her every day during her recovery had let it slip that Sharon had never left the hospital for longer than twenty minutes at time while she'd been in her coma. _I don't deserve her,_ Melody thought. _I never did._ "I guess the first thing you'd want to know is that it was an accident. The shooting I mean."

James's rolled his eyes. "Shootings in a hospital are never an accident Melody."

"He wasn't there to hurt any of the staff," Melody replied, her other hand sliding up to her chest. Though a month was standard recovery time for an open heart surgery, the sight of the procedure still ached from time to time. She wasn't sure if it was real or in her head. "He'd thought it would be empty, the room when he came. But I wanted to check my patient one more time before taking off. Idiot wanted an open biopsy even though it's ridiculously invasive." That still grated on her. Less than the fact that Patrick Doyle was a monster, but still, it was there. "He told me to move."

"And you didn't," James remarked dryly, his eyes half closed and his hand tensed over hers. _This whole thing wasn't just hard on me,_   Melody realized. "Why?"

"I used to be him, James. I _was_ that boy. And no one stopped me." Melody blinked, feeling tears sting her eyes once again. God, when she was going to run out? 

Understanding dawned on his features. "Melody..."

"It was too late for me," she continued, choking on the words. "But not for him. I couldn't let him do that to himself. I couldn't let his story end like mine did. I talked him down, but when I tried to move, to take the gun and escort him outside, I scared him. He jumped and his finger was on the trigger. He didn't mean to hurt me."

"And what happened to him now? The kid I mean. He can't have walked out of there without getting into trouble."

"He was detained for a while, but I paid his bail." Having been so young when she attended college and med school Melody had managed to earn a large number of scholarships and the result had left her with very little debt afterwards. Her successful career since then had provide her with a good amount of wealth and she'd wasted no time using it to help Anthony. He didn't deserve to go to jail, not for this. "Hired a good attorney too, given the situation, it's unlikely he'll be charged with anything." 

James smiled and squeezed her hand. "Given that he did technically shoot you, I didn't think I'd be glad to hear that but I am."

Melody smiled. "That's because you're not unreasonable." Unlike Moira, who still held the naïve belief that they could bridge the gap that years of pain and suffering had wrought between them. "I broke up with Derrick, after I woke up. If that's even the right word. He and I weren't even back together yet."

"Sharon mentioned that during her last visit," James muttered, not quite meeting her eye for a fraction of a second. The same way he'd looked when Melody had first broached the topic of her ex two months ago.

"I hurt him," Melody whispered, guilt eroding at her insides. She hadn't been lying to Derrick when she'd said goodbye, she would never stop being sorry for how she'd treated him. "He deserved better from me but I was too selfish. And what's worse, I was lying to myself the whole time."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't be  happy with someone if, after almost dying, you see them at your bedside, holding your hand and feel disappointed." That had been the final nail in the coffin. The inescapable fact that even Melody, a woman who'd built her entire life on lies could not hide from. 

"Disappointed?"

"Disappointed because you were hoping it was someone else," Melody replied, sliding her arm to grab his hand again. As per usual, his fingers were cold. Cold had never been so comforting.

It was a bit too dark to tell but given how James's eyes had widened, she wondered if he might have been blushing. "Oh. So how'd he take that?"

"Better than I deserved. But that's how he was with me." James's muttered something under his breath. "What?"

"Nothing," he said a little too fast to be convincing. "So after that I guess the questions started?"

"No. Moira showed up." 

"Are you kidding me?" James's voice was sharp as a scalpel and even in the dark, she could see his jaw clench. 

"I wish." Melody drew closer to him and rested her head on his chest. Instantly, her ears picked up on the beating of his heart. His arm drew around her, holding her, the way he'd done so many times already. "I didn't want to see her."

"I don't blame you," James whispered, his breath tickling her hair. Dimly, part of her realized that her hair was a disgusting mess. She'd barely showered during her stay in the hospital-it was bad enough wearing that robe that barely covered her scars. Being naked was even worse. Given her weakness in her first days of waking recovery, Melody had not been allowed to be alone and the way people stared at her, even Sharon was unbearable. Feeling unclean had been a small price to pay to avoid feeling like an ugly freak. 

"I guess she really is sober now, but that doesn't matter to me. Even if she is a different person now, I can't...I can't forget what happened. I know she was afraid of him too, I know he beat her-."

"Nowhere near as badly I'd imagine," James muttered. He was right but Melody wasn't going to tell him that. John had never left any permeant marks on his wife, he liked her to look pretty. He had no such feelings about his daughter. 

"I know she was hurt too, but...she was an adult. I was just a kid. I needed her and she wasn't there. And after I..." The words stuck in her throat, she couldn't say them aloud. "After he died, she still wasn't there. I needed her then too and I was still alone." Another tear leaked from Melody's eye. _Damnit._ She wiped it angrily away with her palm. Tears didn't change the past. It was time to stop crying over it. "That's pretty much everything worthy of interest."

"Not everything," James disagreed and his arm tightened around her. "What'd you tell Sharon?"

"Nothing, she heard part of my conversation with Moira so I imagine she's inferred plenty and she's probably right. But I haven't said anything to her. I can't. The moment she knows what I am, what I can do...she won't want anything to do with me."

Melody shut her eyes tightly against the tears that were building there again. She heard James's sigh and felt his fingers trail over her back in meaningless circles. "You don't know that."

"Her job is to uphold the law and I broke the biggest one there is."

"Give her a chance. It's not like your situation was a normal one. It was the same one that kid who shot you was in. He'll get off because of it. Why wouldn't you?"

 _Because he was caught early. I wasn't. I've been lying about it for almost twenty years._ "It's just...not the same.  He never did any lasting damage to anyone. I did." _I put a man to an early grave. And I still don't care that he's dead. I don't regret that one bit._

"It's nothing he didn't deserve," James said darkly and then he sighed, the tension in his chest and arm fading. "Sharon loves you and knowing what she does now, knowing how badly you were hurt, I don't think she'd judge you the same way she'd judge someone else. Not all crimes are equal Melody."

"Stealing is stealing, murder is murder."

"Did you steal to spite someone? Or to feed your hungry family? Did you kill for the fun of it or because someone was attacking you?" James shifted and Melody felt the warm, soft pressing of his lips against her cheek. "Like I said, not all crimes are equal." He let out a high-pitched yawn and Melody cursed herself for being so thoughtless. James wasn't always smart when it came to her. Sometimes, in his attempts to care for her, he neglected his own needs.

"You need to sleep," she yawned. Her month-long experience of never-ending dread had left her exhausted too. Already, she could feel the tiredness creep into her bones and press her farther into the mattress.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" 

Melody shut her eyes. "Of course." _There's nothing I want more than that, to wake up next to you every morning. Nothing at all._


	53. Fifty-Three

Bucky was initially uncomfortable when he woke up. For some reason, the blankets had shifted away from him during the night and he was cold as a result. He groaned, eyes still closed, wishing desperately for five more minutes of sleep. Blindly, he fumbled over towards the other side of the bed and tried to take back the covers, but was met with resistant and a small groan that didn't belong to him. His eyes flew open, every trace of tiredness gone from his body. The memories of the night before came flooding back and he turned over onto his side. Melody was laying on the other side of the bed, over half the covers bunched up around her and she was looking at him with a very groggy expression.

"Is someone dying?"

"Good morning to you too," Bucky said, grinning at her. "And no. Not that I know of."

"Then why the hell did you wake me up?" She asked, frowning as she pulled the covers over her head. "I haven't slept in three days."

Bucky stared at her. "You what?" 

"Nothing!" It sounded like the exact same sort of "nothing" he'd given her the night before when she'd mentioned Derrick. Her claim was that he'd treated her better than she deserved-he maintained that for a surgeon, the guy was an idiot. He'd had a chance with her once, and he'd blown it. How that was better than she deserved Bucky was never going to understand.

"Melody," he prodded at the lump of blankets she'd become. "That's not healthy. You're still healing from some pretty major injuries. Sleep isn't optional."

"My doctors discharged me," she mumbled, squirming at his touch. "I'm fine."

"Glad to hear," Bucky muttered, grinning mischievously as he poked at her again and he was rewarded with sharp giggles as she rolled away, or rather she tried to. She had managed to tangle herself up in the blankets pretty well. "But I still say you need to recover more," he jabbed lightly at what he thought was her stomach and another high pitched laugh emitted from her. "So I'm prescribing laughter."

Melody laughed even harder and yanked herself free from the tumble of blankets. Her face was flushed pink. "You don't have a prescription pad!"

"I can steal yours," he replied, running his fingers over her neck and laughing as she twitched, trying to throw him off. 

"That is _so_ unethical." 

Now it was Bucky's turn to laugh. "I'm a criminal."

"So am I."

"Not technically."

"Murderer, aiding and abetting a known felon-those are all crimes."

"Yeah but you've never actually been charged with any of them. Therefore, you're not technically a criminal."

Melody turned her head away from him, huffing loudly. "I hate you."

"Of course you do." Bucky said rolling his eyes and scooting closer to her. "I'm awful." He grinned and laid his head down on her pillow, leaving a teasing kiss at the hollow of her throat. His reward was a sigh from her and tremor that seemed to spread across her entire body, at least that he could tell. Part of him wanted to see just how many other things he could get her to do if they stayed put, but logic overruled desire. Despite what she'd said, Bucky had a feeling Melody was holding back about how she was feeling after the surgery she'd gone through. He didn't know half as much about that as she did, but he didn't need it to understand that an operation on a heart was pretty brutal. "Come on," he said, pecking another kiss along her jaw. "I'll make you breakfast."

He rolled off the bed and Melody sat upright, smiling at  him. "How about I cook for you this time? You did promise to teach me.

Bucky considered that a moment. "Fine," he said at last. "Just let me get a fire extinguisher first."

Melody grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him with surprising accuracy. Bucky of course, caught it in mid-air grinning. "Aren't you a regular marksman?"

"Actually," she threw the covers off her legs and shot him a smug smile. "I am. Forgot again didn't you?"

He had actually. "Well to be fair," he said quickly, trying to cover up his mistake. "I've never actually seen you handle a weapon. You've only said you have."

Melody got to her feet, walking over to him her hips swaying and that smug grin still on her face. "Well," she said, sliding up close to him, leaving barely an inch between them. "Why don't you take me out to shoot one of these days and I'll prove how adept I am. Sound good?" she smiled at him again and her fingers walked lightly across his chest. "Let's the cooking lesson for another day-I really need to shower. I'm gross."

"Yeah, just a little," Bucky said, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry you're still cute. How does pancakes sound?"

"Like a really good idea," she laughed. "I'm so sick of hospital food I could puke."

"I believe it. You go and clean up, I'll make you some real food."

"I love you."

"I know," he winked at her, knowing she'd recognize the quote from Han Solo. 

"Nerd!"

"The pot's calling the kettle black," Bucky teased. "Now go and clean up. I promise, I won't burn down the kitchen." He grinned, knowing he was probably going to be smacked for this, but the chance was too good to pass up. "I'll leave that until our cooking lesson."

"Oh shut up." Melody stuck her tongue out at him. "You're being mean." She poked him in the chest, more playful than angry.

"I'm being realistic."

Melody rolled her eyes. "I am _not_ that bad." She turned away and took one step before stopping short. "Oh fuck."

"What?"

"I don't have a change of clothes here, my suitcase got lost by the airline."

Bucky shrugged. The more he heard about modern air travel the more problematic it seemed. He certainly knew that he preferred to be his own pilot. Or to have Steve do it. Way less hassle. "Just borrow something of mine. You can run into the city later, stock up on what you need. I can throw what you have on in the wash after you're done in the bathroom so you have something to wear that will actually fit you."

Melody's annoyed expression melted into a smile. "Okay. Thank you." She walked towards his dresser, rummaged around in it a moment and emerged, grinning as she held up his red shirt. HIs favorite shirt and he felt her smile mirrored on his face as memories floated in from his mind. Memories of an old couch in an old house, kisses that made his blood burn, the feeling of skin against skin, the sound of her voice, moaning his name as he touched her...From the look she gave him over her shoulder as she made her way towards the bathroom, Melody was remembering the exact same things.

Bucky, still grinning made his way towards the kitchen and stared mapping out what he needed in his head. he  hadn't really made pancakes in a while, not since that night with Melody, the first time he'd tried to stop being an ass to her. Looking back on it, he felt that pancakes were a pretty weak attempt to apologize. Especially when he looked back on how poorly he'd behaved then. So wrapped up in his own misery he'd ignored everything else. He'd ignored the risks she was taking to help him and the way the weight of her own struggles had pressed down on her. Even if Bucky had been ignorant of what they truly were, at the time, the signs were still there. The weariness that clung her to like a second skin every time she walked through the door and the way she avoided certain rooms in the house. They hadn't escaped his notice then, but Bucky had not bothered to look for any deeper meanings. He'd just assumed her life was charmed. It was easily the biggest mistake he'd made, as far as assumptions went. Bucky had rarely been so wrong about anyone.

 _And I wasn't done being wrong about her either,_ he mused as he assembled eggs and flour on the counter. Bucky had believed Sharon's assumptions about- _Sharon_. _Oh shit._ Sharon still thought Melody was missing. She had no idea where her friend was and that meant Steve was still planning to return to New York. _Fuck._

Bucky abandoned the bowl and was about to run out the door, hoping he could catch Steve before he did something stupid and unnecessary but he was spared that fate. Even as he yanked open the door, his panic began to subside. Steve was standing in the hallway, hand raised and ready to knock on the door that was no longer there. 

"Was I too loud or-?"

"No," Bucky interrupted, breathing hard and relief sweeping through him. "No. I was just going to look for you."

"Yeah," Steve lowered his arm. He was dressed strangely wearing jeans and a ball cap, neither of which suited the tropical climate they were in. "I just  got off the phone with Sharon and-."

"Melody isn't missing. She's here, literally. She's in the bathroom taking a shower."

Steve's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You don't need to get back to New York, which is what I assume you were planning to do." Bucky recognized his choice of clothing. It wasn't just a style of dress, it was camouflage. Any bum on the street would be wearing something similar. It was a way to help avoid detection. The same stuff he'd relied on when he'd been on the run after leaving Melody. A year and a half it had hidden him, right before Zemo had created his trap and flushed him out of obscurity. 

Steve blinked and yanked off the cap. His hair which was usually neatly combed now stuck up at awkward angles. "Sorry, what do you mean she's here?"

"She showed up late last night. I don't' know how she got here. I haven't asked." He had planned to but had thought to leave that question until today. The other night there were more pressing matters to discuss. He knew why she was there and at the time, that had been far more important than knowing how she'd done it without being noticed by anyone.

"And you didn't let me know?"

"It was probably two in the morning at the time, so no. And frankly, I was pretty shocked myself." _I never thought we'd see each other again._ Bucky sighed and shook his head. "You want to come in? I'm making pancakes."

Steve didn't lose his confused expression and regarded Bucky with a frown. "Why are you making pancakes?"

"Melody's been in the hospital for a month, she needs to eat some real food."

"Hospitals do serve real food."

"Let me rephrase that; real food that doesn't taste bad."

"How would you know hospital food tastes bad?"

"Melody told me. Are you coming in or not?" Bucky stepped aside, a silent invitation to enter. Steve tilted his head, looking at him for a second and then he sighed. "Do you have any blueberries?"

"I don't know," Bucky shut the door behind Steve which clicked behind them, mixing with the steady hissing of the shower down the hallway He maneuvered around Steve and made his way back into the kitchen. He'd check for the fruit later, right now he need to actually make some batter if these things were to be ready by the time Melody got out of the shower.

"I should call Sharon," Steve said, leaning against the counter and rubbing his neck. "She's been scared to death with this. She needs to know what happened." He sighed heavily and Bucky glanced over at him. This close, he could see how tired his friend looked. Steve's face wasn't clean-shaven anymore, there was a pale shadow of stubble on his face. But that wasn't the only thing that was off. His shoulders were hunched forwards, like he was bending under the weight his worries. What they all were, Bucky didn't know, but he knew they had to be great indeed. Steve was so strong all the time, so sure in his course of action and of what was right. That assured aura seemed different now, still there, in the glint in his eyes, but faded elsewhere.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "I bet she is. But I don't think you should tell her about this, not yet anyways." He tapped an egg on the side of the bowl, the cracking noise was like a bullet through glass in the quiet that followed his words.

"Why not?"

 The reasons were simple; Melody didn't want to see anyone from her life in New York right now. Why that was, Bucky himself already knew, but they weren't his reasons to share. Steve wasn't going to hear them until she decided she wanted him to know. "I don't think she wants to see Sharon right now."

"Sharon's her family," Steve said, looking over at Bucky with a sharp gleam in his eye. Bucky knew that look well. It was the same _I-won't-back-down_ look he'd worn seventy years ago, every time he'd been beat up in some alley or parking lot. "Don't you think that she has a right to know that Melody is safe?" Bucky was about hit back with a more biting response, saying that people who made themselves disappear didn't wan to be found, but as he looked over at Steve to reply, the retort died in his throat. The stubborn look had changed, it was still there, but something else had added to it and it changed his mind entirely. Steve wasn't talking about Sharon.  He was talking about himself. Two years, he'd been in her place. His best friend had disappeared right after he'd found him again and for two years, Steve had no idea if he, Bucky had been alive. 

their places had been reserved, Bucky knew what it would have done to him, not knowing if Steve was dead or alive and having no idea where to look for him. It would've been a new level of hell. _I shouldn't have done that to him,_ he realized, shame warming his insides. _But Melody doesn't have to repeat my mistakes._ "Yeah, she does have a right to know Melody is safe, but she doesn't have a right to know her location."

Steve considered that. "And if I'm the one who tells her, she'll figure out where her friend snuck off to."

"Exactly."

"So then what do we do?"

"I talk to Melody and convince her to send Sharon a text or a voice mail to let her know that she's safe."

"Won't she be able to trace that?"

"I'm pretty sure Melody's taken precautions against that already." Bucky had never asked, but if she'd wanted to truly disappear that was what she would have needed to do in order to fully achieve it. He knew many things about Melody and one thing was sure; she was smart and there was no way she would have overlooked that detail. "And even if she doesn't have her phone anymore, if she ditched it, she could buy a disposable cell and use that to call."

"Won't the spending on her card give away her location?"

"Only if she used it," Bucky whisked the batter together with a flick of his wrist, beating out the lumps of flour. "And she wouldn't. She knows that credit cards leave a trail."

Steve sighed. "You're out of blueberries. That's disappointing."

"Life is full of disappointments." Bucky ducked down and grabbed a frying pan from one of the lower cabinets. "And Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ask her about what happened, the shooting the scars, _none_ of it." The last thing Bucky needed was for Melody to disappear again. "You aren't allowed to talk about it. Not a word."

"What if she brings it up?" 

Bucky scoffed. "I wouldn't hold my breath on that one." Melody had avoided the conversation her entire life and she wasn't close to Steve at all. It was going to surprise the hell out him if she willing discussed the matter with his best friend this soon. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Make some coffee, please."

"You tired?"

"No." He'd slept better last night than he had in the past month.

"Then why-?"

"You don't want to see Melody go through withdrawal. It makes her very...unpleasant." A better word might have been cranky, but he'd just heard the shower turn off and didn't want Melody to hear him say that. She probably disagree with him. 

"Withdrawal?"

"She put coffee into an IV if she could," Bucky smirked. "She's used to having caffeine in her system the moment she wakes up." 

"Oh," there was a soft sound as Steve started shuffling around the kitchen. There was a sharp clinking noise as he grabbed the coffee pot. "I guess she needs it huh? Can't be half asleep and cutting open someone's body."

Bucky shrugged and flipped on the burner. A blue-orange flame roared to life and for a moment, the heavy smell of gasoline filled his head.  "Thanks."  He grabbed a spoon and drizzled some batter into the pan where it started to hiss against the hot metal. "And Steve?"

"Yes?"

"I never thanked you, for yesterday. For saying you'd look for her if things didn't get any better." 

"What else could I have done? You couldn't go and someone had to."

 _And you volunteered knowing full well you could get thrown into prison._ Bucky smiled to himself. This was the very thing that made Steve a man worth following. Even if he himself didn't always see that.

"Morning," Bucky looked up and saw Melody enter the kitchen. Her hair was damp and his shirt was overlong on her, the hem falling well past her knees. "Steve," she nodded in his direction. "Nice to see you again."


	54. Fifty-Four

Melody had sat down to some very awkward meals in her lifetime. Any dinner with either or both of her parents was certainly awkward, but breakfast between Steve and James was up there too. Well if she was being honest, it was just Steve that made her feel strange. James had acted like his usual self the whole time,  Steve however, was another matter. He offered polite conversation, asking if she was feeling well and the standard things people asked after someone had gone through a surgery, but nothing past that. He wouldn't meet her eyes either and they'd barely finished eating when Steve had excused himself from the whole affair.

"James," she commented, grabbing her empty plate and glass. "What's wrong with Steve? He was acting weird."

"Oh," his face turned a bit red and he paused by the sink, grinning sheepishly. "I guess that's my fault. I should have warned you earlier. I just...forgot. You're arrival just took me by surprise and-."

The speed of his words increased with each one spoken and the red coloring his face darkened even further. Melody smiled at him, she hadn't seen him wear that sort of expression since she'd implied that he had called her scrawny. "What is it you forgot exactly?"

"Steve, he knows about us. I told him." James sighed and Melody saw his hand curl into a fist on the edge of the sink. "I'm sorry, I know you didn't want to say anything but after Sharon got that call, I...I couldn't handle it." The veins on his arm stood out vividly against his skin and he began to shake. "I'm not as strong as you and I couldn't deal with it, not alone and-."

She'd heard enough, Melody shut the dishwasher and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her forehead into his back. Almost instantly, the tremors that had been rippling through him began to calm. "It's okay," she said, her eyes clothed, breathing in the fresh scent of his shirt and the tang of metal from what remained of his left arm. "I'm glad you told him."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she smiled to herself. "I am. Like you said...we're not wrong. Unorthodox maybe, but I think even that's a stretch."

James made a sort of noise that was between a laugh and a humming sound. "Oh?"

"On the surface, you and I are different people, but that's just it. It's the surface, everything beneath it, we're..." Melody trailed off, unsure of how to continue down that line of thought. "You and I, we just fit."

"Like puzzle pieces."

Melody had never done many puzzles in her lifetime. Not unless medical mysteries or abdominal repair surgeries counted. She was pretty sure they didn't. "Something like that," she agreed sighing as she let go of him. The feeling of his lean, muscled body against hers was certainly a pleasant feeling, but James had a nice face too and Melody was keen to see it. She'd missed looking at his face every time they'd been apart; she'd missed his smile, the warmth in his blue eyes when he'd look at her-all of it. 

"How'd he take it? When you told him?"

James frowned a moment and combed his fingers through his hair. "Well, to be honest, he was more confused than anything. See, he did sort of know about you already."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, crossing her arms and giving him and appraising look. He hadn't changed out of the clothing he'd been wearing last night, a plain white tank-top and boxers. As he stretched, the shirt pulled up a bit, giving her a glimpse at the sharp V of his hipbones. The sight sent a ripple of desire through her bloodstream, ten times more potent than caffeine. _Maybe this conversation can wait,_ Melody thought even as she inched closer to him.

"One night," James continued, unaware of what she was doing. He was so lost in his story, "I was dreaming about you and he heard me shouting for you. After that, he did know that there was someone I called 'Nightingale' he just never knew who she was. Not until a month ago." He smiled at her, the same gentle, easy grin that had made her stomach flip, even though she'd fought against it. "He thought 'Nightingale' was part of Hydra so hearing that it was just you shocked the hell out of him." 

"Wish you would've gotten a picture," Melody laughed, sliding between the sink and James. There wasn't much space there, but that was just fine by her. It forced them close and that was exactly what she wanted. New York had been so far away, James had been so far from her but now that wasn't that case. Melody could hold him now and God, she'd wanted that so badly, ever since the moment death had started to close over her that day in the hospital. 

James's arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. "I wish I would have too, looking back but I could barely move then. I was so terrified." His arm tightened around her and Melody didn't have to see his face to know his jaw was clenched shut. "Melody?"

"Yes?" 

"Never do that again."

"Save a kid's life or get shot?" Melody asked dryly, letting her hand lay flat against his chest. Even through his shirt, she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin and the sharp cut of each muscle. 

James snorted. "Smartass."

"You love me."

"Yeah," he agreed, his fingers trailing up her back and into her hair. "I do."

Melody's heart swelled in her chest. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For loving me."

"You don't need to thank me for that," James said, his warm breath tickling her drying hair. "It's not a service."

"But I don't make it easy," she whispered into his chest, "so I guess I'm thanking you for not giving up on me-even though I'm messed up."

James pushed her away and for a moment, confusion swept through Melody. "Melody," he said, looking at her with stern eyes. His hand was curled around her arm, firmly, to keep her in place, but not painful. "We're all messed up."

"Some of us are worse than others." It was true, everyone went through pain and it left scars, but the degree of which always varied. Melody was pretty sure she fell on the more severe end of the spectrum. 

"Yeah, that's true," James allowed, that steely look still on his face. "But that doesn't mean you're hard to love." He smiled at her then, the hard glint in his eyes softening. "Contrary to what you believe, you're easy to love." His hand left her arm and James brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek before tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "In fact, it was so easy, I didn't even realize that I was falling for you until after I had."

Melody grinned at him. Now that was something she could relate to. "The same thing happened to me, I didn't know what I was feeling until it was too late to stop it." 

"Maybe love isn't something you can stop," James muttered, tracing the curve of her cheek. "Maybe it's too powerful for that."

She grabbed his hand, turning her face towards it, allowing her lips to just brush across his calloused skin. Melody tightened her grip on his hand, her chest constricting, but not in a way that was painful. "I think it is," she whispered, joy sweeping through her like a breeze through leaves. Twelve years of abuse had stolen so much from her and one of those things had been her belief in love. For so many years Melody had wanted nothing to do with love at all. Love, to her had been John strapping her down to a dining room table and slicing her arm open with a knife. Love had been her mother collecting her from the small, dark closet with red eyes and bruises on her face. She'd thought it to be a false thing, a way to blind a person to reality and trap them in a never-ending cycle of pain. But now, she knew how wrong she'd been.

What she'd witnessed between herself and her parents wasn't love at all. It was counterfeit. But looking at James, seeing her smile mirrored on his face, feeling the gentle touch of his hand in hers-Melody knew she was seeing love, _real_ love. And in those small gestures, their simple touch the world seemed brighter and warmer. She felt more whole, more at ease just knowing he was there. And if this was what just a small touch could make her feel, it was safe to say James's hypothesis about love being too powerful to be stopped certainly had some merit. 

"And speaking of love," James said, his voice low as it drew Melody from her thoughts. "I'm not the only person who loves you."

The warmth Melody had felt a moment before started to drain from her limbs. She knew where this conversation was going. "She doesn't love me," She let go of his hand, drawing her arms to her chest which was starting to ache as she thought of Sharon. "She doesn't really know me. Not really and you _can't_ love someone if you don't know them." Sharon had loved her once, still loved her now but that time was limited. An hourglass. The sand would run out when she knew the full story-the abuse that started it and the shot that ended it. 

"She knows the parts of you that matter the most, she knows what makes you who you are."

"I'm capable of murder," Melody said, staring at the floor, tremors running up and down her body though the room was not cold. "That's part of me. It's part of what makes me who I am." It was the reason she'd earned the name Doctor Freezer. That cold, unfeeling place was something she discovered the day John died, the first time she'd used it had not been to help, but to harm. That had been a part of her ever since, her greatest asset and her greatest fear. 

"That's not who you are," James said, reaching out towards her, but as soon as she felt the brush of his hand against her, Melody stepped away shaking her head and unable to speak. He didn't get it. He couldn't. In so many ways, James understood her so well but this wasn't one of those times. Sure, he'd killed himself, but there was a key difference: James had never _chosen_ to do it. Someone had forced it on him. She didn't have that excuse. No one had made her do anything at all. The actions she had taken had been her _choice_ and hers alone. 

"Melody," he whispered and she winced, hearing the hurt in his voice at her rejection. It wasn't personal, but she couldn't' stand to be touched now, to be reassured that everything would be fine because it wouldn't be. To deny that would be foolish, illogical to the extreme. Sharon swore to uphold the law, Melody had broken it. " You have _saved_ hundreds of people. You could have gone another way and you didn't. You chose to do something good with your life. That is who you are-and Sharon knows that."

Melody wanted to believe that, she wanted to believe that so much it hurt, but that was the thing about beliefs; they weren't always factual and then, when they were proven wrong the pain was ten times worse. Losing Sharon would be worse than having her bones broken, her skin torn apart and sutured back together. Worse than all of it and that was when it happened on it's own. Trying to hope that it wouldn't be like that would just add another layer of pain. There was no room in her to hope. She dug her fingers into her arms, had she been skin-to-skin Melody was sure she would've drawn blood with her nails. "James, please don't. Please just stop this." _Stop trying to give me hope where none exists, stop doing this to me._

"I'm not saying you need to talk to her and explain everything," he said and Melody heard the soft padding of his bare feet on the tile floor. "Just," he reached for her again and again she drew away. There was no place for comfort, not in this matter. "Melody," James's voice carried a terrible weight that sent a bolt of pain through her heart. "Please, look at me." _I can give you that,_ she thought as she met his gaze, guilt twisting her insides. Twice in one day she'd hurt him. Melody couldn't stand to go for a third time. She'd done enough damage already, to him and others. She'd made so many selfish mistakes already, she had to minimize them. That was her mentality, mistakes were alright, repeatedly making the same mistakes were not. "I'm not saying you need to talk to her right now and explain everything," James said, looking steadily at her. He put on a brave face, but Melody wasn't fooled, she could see the pain she'd caused him in the slight tension in his shoulders and in the careful way he was speaking. "I'm just saying she loves you and not knowing where you are right now or even if you're alive is killing her. I did the same thing to Steve two years ago and it was wrong. You don't have to make my mistakes."

Melody tried to answer, but her throat was dry. He was right. Melody hadn't even considered that when she'd fled New York. Fear had burned inside her blood like poison. The doctors, nurses and police officers who'd crowed outside her hospital room, asking for answers she couldn't give had driven her to the edge of madness. When she'd been discharged, been freed, there hadn't been time to think. All she could think to do was run, run to one person who wouldn't ask questions. The one person she could trust-the only person who knew the full truth of her character, both the person who valued human life and was capable of taking it and didn't turn away. 

James sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I have to go to the lab soon." Melody nodded, feeling numbness spread through her limbs at the mention of the place. He'd walk in their and forget everything. Forget his name and every thing that made him who he was. James moved around her, towards the bedroom furnishing of the studio and he grabbed a clean pair of shorts and a shirt from the dresser. With no word, he pulled them on and walked past her once again and just like before, he didn't even bother to try and touch her. 

As he reached the door, James sighed once again and his shoulders slumped forwards. "Just think about what I said alright? We can talk more when...when it's over." Melody nodded, a hundred words bubbling up in her mind like water from a spring but she couldn't get her jaw to move. She couldn't speak. In what could be as little as five minutes, he could forget this entire conversation had even happened. He could forget her again. Forget everything that made him James.  "I love you," he said, turning his back to her. "I'll see you soon."

Melody willed her mouth to open, willed the air in her lungs to exhale as words. "Love you," but they were soft, barely louder than a whisper and as the door closed behind him, Melody had to wonder if she'd even been heard. The door clicked shut and with shaking legs, she walked towards her purse which was left on the counter. With trembling hands, she unzipped the bag. Dimly, part of her was aware at how much her former residents would've been shocked if they saw her now: Doctor Frasier's hands were trembling, unsteady and afraid. An unheard of event.

It took longer than it should have, but as she rummaged through the purse, Melody pulled out a small black cellphone. A disposable she'd purchased in New York. She hadn't made any phone calls on it, but she had to. She had to call Sharon. Sharon had looked after her like family; staying at her beside every spare moment she had for a month. Even knowing that she'd been hiding so much, Sharon had stayed. Been more than she deserved-Melody owed it to her to at least tell her she was safe. 

 _But I don't have the words_ , she thought, her weak legs giving out under her and she heard a cracking sound as her back struck against the bedframe. It should've hurt, but the fear poisoning her insides dulled it. This pain was nothing. She couldn't feel it, all she could feel was the painful pounding of her newly repaired heart and the shallow rush of air in and out of her lungs. _How do I do this?_ She wondered shaking as she clutched the cell phone tightly in her hand. _How can I do what's right when I'm too scared to move?_


	55. Fifty-Five

_Seventy-three,_ Bucky thought bitterly, several hours later, dragging himself back towards the apartment. All in all, it had shaped up to be a horrible day. First his fight with Melody and now another failed attempt. Another day where Hydra was still laying in his head like a snake in the grass. Bucky wasn't sure which had left him feeling worse.

He stood silently outside the door to his apartment, suddenly more fearful than tired. What was he going to say to Melody if he was inside? Would she even talk to him? She hadn't that morning, not since he'd brought up Sharon. Bucky knew he'd done the right thing, but seeing her like that was awful. It was worse than anger. Melody hadn't been angry at all, she'd been distant and withdrawn. Not unfeeling, but closer to it than Bucky liked. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to bridge the gap this morning's conversation had created between them and find common ground, but he didn't know how to do that. Not without backing down from his position and Bucky couldn't do that. He knew he was right.

 _Well,_ Bucky thought, rocking back and forth on his heels for a moment. _We have to talk sooner or later._ And it was probably better that it was sooner. He had no idea how long Melody would be in Wakanda this time. Bucky sighed and reached into his pocket, feeling warm metal of his key press against his skin. As he withdrew it, Bucky realized something; the ring wasn't' in his pocket like it usually was. He'd forgotten it in his nightstand. For the first time in two months, he'd entered the lab without it on his person. The knowledge sent a harsh jolt through his body as he turned the key in the lock, the sensation not unlike that of being electrocuted. 

"Melody?" he called as he opened the door. The studio was grey, the light from outside (which was dull now as twilight fell across the jungle outside) the only light currently in the place. Frowning, Bucky sighed heavily to himself. She probably wasn't to keen to speak to him right now. She'd come to Wakanda to escape from questions and from being told she had to do one thing or another and in her mind, Bucky had a feeling she felt that had been what he was doing. _She'll come back sooner or later_ , he thought to himself as he flipped on the light _. We can talk then._ However as light flooded the studio, he realized he'd been wrong.  In his initial sweep of the studio, he'd missed her, but Melody was in the apartment, sitting against bed frame, legs drawn up to her chest and staring at a small black object in her hand.

"Melody?" Bucky called softly, kicking off his shoes and moving towards her. The nearer he got, the clearer she became and honestly, Melody looked ill. Her face was bone white and her entire body was shaking. "Melody, what's wrong?" She didn't answer, but her eyes darted up to him and stayed there. They were wide and frantic. Bucky knelt down next to her and initially reached towards her but the scar she'd given him two years ago throbbed, not painfully but enough to remind him why that was a bad idea. She'd been this fearful one night before and had stabbed him, Bucky wasn't sure what she'd do now, but he didn't want to find out-the first time had been enough of a learning experience for him.

"How'd it go?" she asked, her fearful eyes never leaving his face. "The same I assume. You'd be happier if it went right."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "I would be." He glanced down at Melody's hand, the object she was holding was a cell phone, though not like the one she normally carried. This wasn't a smart phone, it was disposable. "When did you get this?"

"Before I left New York," she replied, tightening her grip on the phone. The tendons on the back of her hand were stretched like piano wire and made her fingers look more like claws. "In case I needed to call anyone." 

Bucky couldn't help the little grin that flitted onto his face. Though she'd never gone on the run , Melody, thus far had done everything correctly. "Where you trying to call anyone recently?"

"No." Her fingers relaxed on the phone and her head fell forward onto her knees. "I just..."

"Can I sit down?" He asked and Melody made a little noise that sounded like a yes, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure on that. Either way, Bucky was going to take the chance that it was. He shifted and sat down on the ground next to her, the bedframe pressing against his back. Bucky wrapped his arm around his knees, knowing he still couldn't touch her. "Do you want to talk about it?" He didn't have to say what "it" was. Generally, when a person was sitting in the dark on the floor, trembling and barely talking something was wrong. Bucky was pretty familiar with the situation. 

"I thought about what you said."

She didn't have to be specific about that either, there was only one thing she could be talking about. "And?"

"And you're right." Melody's voice was even softer and Bucky had a moment to wonder just how hard that was for her to say aloud. She was the sort of person who wasn't used to being wrong. But then again, in most situations, Melody made all her calls based on scientific fact; emotions weren't that easy. 

"Does this mean you called Sharon?" Bucky asked, but even as he said it, he knew she hadn't. If she had, Melody wouldn't have been staring at the device like it was a snake. "You haven't called, have you?"

"No," Melody's hand tightened on the phone again, shaking from head to toe. "I can't. I know I should but I can't." Another whimpering sound escaped her and if possible, she curled into herself even more. "I always know what I need to do, I can always look at a situation and form a plan. I can think and act under extreme pressure but I'm paralyzed here. I know what I need to do and I can't move an inch."

Bucky looked over at Melody, his heart breaking for her. He knew the feeling well. He'd felt it when he'd seen Steve for the first time after DC. He'd  asked why Bucky had pulled him from the river and he'd known then that the truth was the best policy and he hadn't been able to give it. He'd been too afraid at the time. He pulled him out of the river because he was his best friend, because he remembered him. "Melody," he whispered, "can I touch you?" 

"What?"

"You look like you could use a hug," Bucky said which was true. She looked so much younger than her thirty years, so much more fragile than the strong, stubborn doctor he'd seen in that old house. It was almost like the child she'd been so long ago was peeking out from behind the curtain and looking out at the world. "And frankly I could too. It's been a rough day." Bucky ducked his head, hair falling into his face. "It's been a rough few months actually." The time in the lab, the failed attempt before this most recent one, the call and then spending weeks, not knowing if Melody would live or die and yes, some of them had been resolved now, but new problems were starting to replace them already. All in all Bucky felt hollow. Worn out and dead tired. 

There was a soft sound of fabric sliding across the floor and Bucky tensed as he felt Melody's head lean against his shoulder. "I know exactly what you mean." She took a deep breath, the sound shaky and weak. "I'm so tired James."

He smiled to himself and let his arm stretch out around her shoulders. Melody hadn't stopped trembling. "Me too. And just to be clear-you're not falling asleep on me are you? Because floors aren't places to sleep."

"No," she said and Bucky saw a hint of a smile on her face. "I'm not that kind of tired." He knew that, if she was, he wouldn't have found her awake and holding a phone. She would've been spread out on the ground fast asleep.  "What do I even say to her?" 

"I ran and hid from my best friend for two years," Bucky said, feeling a bitterness ripple through him. He'd been a coward then, too afraid to face Steve after what he'd become and made his friend suffer for it. "So maybe I'm not the best person to ask."

"You're the only one I can ask." Bucky sighed and shifted a bit on the floor, wishing that he had two arms. Right now, all he wanted to do was lift Melody up and hold her tight against him-a feat which was nearly impossible with one limb. Pressure, he'd learned could be an effective tool to calm down the nervous system. He had a feeling the moment she dialed Sharon's number, Melody would be more anxious than ever.  

"Just keep things to the point and hang up the moment you've said what you need to say. Tell her who you are, tell her you're safe and leave it at that. Sharon doesn't need to know anything else right now."

"What if she picks up the phone and starts demanding answers?"

"Hang up anyways."

"I owe her an explanation," Melody said in a small voice that was so unlike her usual tone.

"Yes," Bucky agreed. "You do, but you _don't_ owe her one before you're ready to give it. And she doesn't have a right to rip answers from you before you're ready. She needs to be patient." He let his hand trail up Melody's arm, following the curve of her collar bone and then  up her neck before letting his fingers move gently through her hair. The strands were like silk against his skin, or at least he thought so. Bucky couldn't be sure, he'd never touched the fabric in his life.

"She waited a month for answers, how much longer can I expect her to be patient with me?"

 "She'll wait-you're worth it for her." Though Sharon knew Melody had been keeping secrets for years now, the frantic phone calls he'd heard from her over the last month proved one thing: despite the secrets, Sharon had stopped caring about Melody. 

Another violent tremor shook Melody's entire body as she processed that and Bucky held her as best he could. "I'm so scared." Her words came out fast, agitated like they had the day she'd told him the truth about John. "I didn't have anyone in my life for years-no one person who cared about me. Then I got her.  I never deserved her, she never suspected for a moment what was wrong with me. She was always, _always_ on my side, I had a family. And now...The moment she knows the truth, I won't. I'm loosing her and I know it's my fault but...But I don't know how to do this, I don't know how to lose her!" 

 _You haven't lost her,_ Bucky thought, but he wasn't going to say that aloud. He wasn't as close with Sharon as Melody was, but he knew her character well enough. She'd defied the law to help Steve catch Zemo. One bad thing to achieved ten good ones. He saw no reason why Agent Carter wouldn't view John's death the same way. "There's no right way to do anything like this," he said finally, stroking her hair. "You just have to do it and let yourself feel however you want to feel about it."

"I don't want to feel like this." 

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." Melody sighed again, her breath shaky and weak. Then she sat up, the warmth and weight of her body leaving Bucky's. 

"Melody?" he asked, no lounger slouching against the bedframe and dimly being made aware of a sore spot on his upper back from being there so long. She was sitting upright, spine rigid as a steel rod, her green eyes were fixed on the black phone and her chest was heaving with short, heavy breaths. Without answering or even looking his way, Melody lifted her other hand which was visibly shaking in the air and slowly, dialed a number across the keypad and then held the phone to her ear.  She wrapped her free arm around her stomach, looking pale and sickly, rocking back and forth slowly as she waited for Sharon's voice to answer her call. Bucky watched the display, frozen and his heart aching. She was so frightened, so alone but this wasn't something he could help her with. This was something she had to do without him. 

"Sharon," she said finally, shoulders slumping forward with visible relief. _She probably went to voicemail._ Bucky reasoned, It would be easier for her to say the things she needed to say if Sharon wasn't there to interrupt her with questions. "It's Mel. I know you're angry with me and you have every right to be and I know it's useless but," she took a long, shaking breath as though she was trying not to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never wanted this to happen. I just called because, I wanted you to know that I'm okay. I'm safe." She withdrew the phone from her ear and ended the call, hanging her head low and her hair obscuring her face.

Bucky shifted onto his knees and reached out to Melody. If possible, she was shaking worse than before. "Hey," he hooked his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to look at her. "You did it." He smiled at her and Melody returned the grin, though her lips trembled slightly telling him the smile was false. 

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Bucky stretched out his fingers and held her face. "I am so proud of you." 

"Even though I'm a coward?" she remarked dryly. 

"When a coward is afraid, they let their fear control their actions and you, Doctor Frasier," he added her title for gentle emphasis, reminding her of who she truly was. The parts of her that mattered-her strength and her devotion to saving lives. "You've never had that problem, you do what you have to do, even if it's scary." Bucky got onto his feet, knees cracking as he did. Once again, his point about floors not being places to sleep was proving true.

Melody followed his lead, wincing as she did, her legs stiff and uncooperative. "How long have you been here?" Bucky asked, frowning at her and a blush crept up her face.

"Um, when did you leave?"

Bucky winced. That was not okay. "How are you standing up right now? Don't your legs hurt?"

Melody shrugged and the gesture was stiff and pained. "All of me sort of hurts."

"You know," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "This is why I keep telling you that floors aren't places to sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Floors aren't made for sitting or laying down for hours on end," Bucky said with a dismissive shrug. Asleep or not, hard surfaces weren't made to be rested on for hours, he didn't care what Melody thought on that one. "Have you eaten at all since this morning?" 

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "But I wasn't hungry anyways." At his unconvinced look, Melody bristled  a little. "I wasn't! All I did was sit on the floor all day," she lifted one of her legs gingerly. "And now I'm starting to feel the effects; what are my chances of getting a massage?"


	56. Fifty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I realized the previous two chapters I posted where the unedited ones (my bad, sorry!) So I have corrected that, you don't need to re-read them to understand the new postings, but you do get some extras in them. Enjoy the update! :)

A week later, Melody's life had entered a sort of routine in T'challa's compound. Her days were spent slowly, mostly hiding in the apartment and spending time with James. Steve had stopped coming by recently, whether it was because her presence made him uncomfortable she didn't know, but she was thankful for it. From the moment she'd laid eyes on the super solider he'd stared at her. The same way all the nurses who'd been assigned to her had, the way Derrick had and the way Sharon had too. The same gaze that burned with a thousand questions, pity and disgust as the macabre tapestry that was her skin. Steve had never seen the scars, but Melody had no doubt Sharon had given him the full story on just how terrible they were.

Being watched like that made Melody feel sick, exposed and angry. Steve was just like everyone else, looking at her like she was a scarred freak. And the worst part was, she knew they were right. That was exactly what John had turned her into. But still, even knowing that, the reality was still hard to bear and for that reason, she'd locked herself away from most everyone else in the compound. Though she liked Sam, Scott, Wanda and Clint well enough, Melody knew they'd look at her the same way Steve had and she couldn't handle that. It hadn't taken long for them to realize she was avoiding them either and so, for that reason, the knock on the door took Melody by surprise and she placed a pencil over her place in the latest edition of the _International Journal of Medicine_   and answered the door, apprehension making her limbs heavy as stone.

"Good morning Doctor Frasier," the king of Wakanda was standing outside her door, dressed in a clean cut suit. Whenever he'd been before, it had to have been some sort of meeting. "May I come in?"

"Of course," she said, too stunned to say more as she stepped aside and allowed him in. It wasn't like she could really say no either as the whole building belonged to him. Why he'd even let her come and stay now Melody couldn't say. She rarely had any good luck when it came to personal matters and so, when the rare moment came that she got lucky she learned not to question it. 

Melody shut the door behind her and squared her shoulders. She was not going to shut down, not right now. That mechanism had one purpose and one purpose only; to save lives. If there was no one dying and in need of her help, she had no place going there. None.

"Please," she said, pasting a smile onto her face in an attempt to seem welcoming. She didn't want to see T'challa either. "Won't you sit down?"

"Of course," he smiled politely at her and took a seat at the table. Melody hesitated a moment. She wasn't sure whether or not to offer him something to eat or drink, she was pretty sure that was common practice for guests, but she wasn't sure. She'd never really had people over to her apartment, just Sharon and she'd known her way around the place so well she'd never needed help.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked finally, unsure but still deciding it was better to offer and seem overly polite than to refrain and look rude. T'challa had been kind enough to pick her up at the airport personally, no questions asked and bring her to the base. She didn't want to see ungrateful.

"No, I'm alright, but thank you. Please, would you sit down? I have something I would like to discuss with you."

Melody slid into the seat across the table, the wooden surface ice cold under her numb hands. "Of course," the smile on her face was painful. _Please, please don't ask about the shooting. Don't ask about the scars._  

T'challa smiled kindly at her. "Well firstly, I suppose I should ask how you're healing? I heard that your injuries were extensive."

She nodded, the numb feeling spread from her hands to the rest of her body. "I feel fine, thank you." Melody looked down at her hands and saw they were starting to shake. _No, no, no and no. I am not doing this._ She folded her hands in front of her and though her heart was beating frantically in her chest, she met T'challa's eye. "And with all due respect Your Highness, I do not want to discuss the event leading up to my injuries or anything that took place afterwards." James's words from the previous night rang back in her mind; assuring her that no one had a right to force her to talk about anything until she felt ready to do it. He was right, but she wasn't sure everyone else would see it that way.

T'challa regarded her intently, his long arms shifting on the table for a moment. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to be sure you're feeling alright; what happened to you was..." He trailed off and straightened upright, his spine suddenly rigid "Anyway, that isn't what I came to discuss with you. I wanted to talk about your plans here and please, call me T'challa."

"Excuse me?"

"How long you plan to stay in Wakanda," he clarified and Melody dropped her gaze to her hands once again. _So much for bravery,_ she thought bitterly to herself. "You mentioned on the flight here you weren't planning to return to New York."

That was true. There was nothing left for Melody there. Her career at West Memorial was gone-no one there would ever look at her the same way again. She wouldn't be Doctor Freezer anymore, she'd just be a broken woman. And that was assuming they never found out she was a murderer. "That is correct."

T'challa smiled again, this smile more sly than compassionate. "And did you have any plans while you're here?"

 _How can I plan for a future when I've lost so much?_ The only thing she had left was James and their love. She'd lost her job and she'd lost her family. Melody had no idea how to move forward when those vital pieces were gone. "I don't have any at the moment. That's not what you want to hear I'm sure, but I promise, I won't be any trouble while I'm here. I know where I stand in all of this and don't worry, I won't overstay my welcome."

"You misunderstand Doctor Frasier, you're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like." The shock must have shown on her face because T'challa elaborated further. "So long as you're here, I can live with letting more official matters like proper documentation slide. And if you decide to move more into the city, perhaps to find work let me know and I'd be more than happy to help you through the process of obtaining a visa to allow that."

Melody stared blankly at him, feeling as off-footed and underprepared now as she had on her first day as an intern. "I don't understand."

"Of course, I don't expect you to do that if you don't want to. I'm just saying it's an option that's open to you."

"No, not that." She shook her head, "I understand the process of legal residency for a foreigner but I don't understand you. Not at all." Melody had always struggled with relating to other people, a by-product of the social and emotional isolation she'd experienced as a child, but she'd never been more confused by a person than she did right now. 

T'challa raised his eyebrows. "And why is that Doctor?"

"You don't know me," Melody said, her voice tight. "Anything you thought you knew about me was a lie and I have no doubt you're aware of that fact; you run a country and you can't be ignorant of your surroundings or the people in them so you _have_ to know what I've been hiding.  And that's _only_ when I exclude the fact that you're the Black Panther. Take that into account and it's further proof you're not the sort of person who would foolishly trust anyone who's proven to be untrustworthy and yet," she grinned, the expression was bitter. "And yet you're sitting across from me, offering me a place to stay with no strings attached _and_ offering me an inside look into your country's immigration process if the event comes to pass that I want to make this place my home. Why? Why are you doing this? It doesn't make any sense." Melody tensed up, fighting back the urge to scream, she'd realized only after she'd finished that she'd almost shouted at him. 

T'challa did something else that surprised Melody then, he smiled. "Did Bucky ever tell you that I tried to kill him?"

"Yes," they'd discussed that matter when she'd arrived in the base the first time. "Don't worry, he doesn't hold it against you, you made a mistake." She didn't hold it against him either, as soon as T'challa had realized his error, he'd done everything in his power to keep James safe. 

"I had, I almost killed the wrong man. A nearly catastrophic mistake."

"The more powerful and skilled someone is, the bigger the mistakes they make." Surgery had taught Melody that. Lives hung in her hands all the time, one missed bleeder, one misread chart, one failure to follow protocol and a catastrophic mistake fell down on her and her patients  like a pile of bricks. Permeant injury, death, more surgery that wouldn't have been needed if she'd caught the problem sooner. 

"You're familiar with that Doctor?"

"I am."

"Then, I think you can understand this; when I realized what I had done wrong, I knew I had to try and help him. Bucky, much like my father was a victim of men with no regard for life. I hoped, by bringing him here, I could help him find peace."

"That's a very kind sentiment," Melody said, she wasn't sure if peace was possible for James, what he'd gone through was too much. She was familiar with that too. She'd been chasing peace for almost two decades and had never found it. Moments of it, but nothing that lasted forever. "But what does it have to do with me?"

"I wanted him to find peace here, but I don't think I ever saw any sign of it until I saw him look at you. You bring him peace." For the third time in the span of ten minutes Melody's gaze dropped to her hands once again and her face burned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. It must feel strange, having a perfect stranger comment on your romantic relationships."

"I never said that," Melody's heart skipped a beat.

"You didn't need to say anything." The young king's eyes twinkled as he said that. "It's obvious." Melody couldn't help it, a laugh burst out of her chest, the first one in months. The sound was strange, the sensation unfamiliar in her newly healed chest. "Is something funny?"

"You say that it's obvious and yet neither of our best friends ever figured it out." Steve had been clueless as to how both she and James had felt. Sharon had only gotten part of the picture. And yet T'challa, who wasn't extremely close to either one of them had figured it out the moment he saw them interact. 

"Sometimes being too close can cloud your vision." 

"There's truth in that."

"So," he stood up then. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go. Another board meeting, an appropriately named, don't you think?" T'challa rolled his eyes. "Everyone in the room thinks they are right about how to solve a problem but in reality nothing ever gets done."

Melody grinned. "An accurate summation."

"Oh but before I go," he reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelop. "There's a project I'd like to pitch there at the next meeting, I'd like your input on the matter before then, if that's alright."

"Of course," she took the envelop from his out stretched hand. "But depending on the project, I might not be much help."

"I think you would be, the hospital you worked in, it was a teaching hospital yes?"

"Yes, it was."

"That's what this is, I'm sure your familiar enough now with skill labs and drills to say whether or not you think this could work." T'challa smiled at her again. "Goodbye Doctor Frasier."

Melody looked up from the file for a moment, temporarily distracted. While she was very interested in the project, there was one thing she had to do first, before reading it over. "Call me Mel."


	57. Fifty-Seven

Up until this moment, Bucky had been having a very good day. Waking up next to Melody had left him feeling light-hearted, even optimistic. Going on a morning run, the air not yet humid and sticky had felt him feeling pretty good too. So had the idea of stopping by Steve's apartment for breakfast, but now, as he stood outside the doorway, that good feeling was gone entirely. Because, he could hear clearly from his side of the door that Steve was not alone inside the apartment, he had company, very loud, angry company and Bucky's heart dropped into his stomach when he heard that voice. 

It was Sharon.

"Sharon," Steve said, his voice pleading. "Please-."

"Don't," she growled. "Don't you dare ask me for anything!" Bucky winced at her harsh voice and part of him knew he wasn't supposed to be hearing this. Part of him knew the right thing to do would have been to leave and let them have this fight without unwanted observers, but he couldn't move. His feet were bolted to the floor. 

"You don't understand-."

"You're right, I don't." The agent shot back, her voice tight. "I don't understand how you knew where she was, knew she was alive and well and yet no matter how many times we talked you _never_ thought to mention it."

"You did the same thing to me!" Steve said, his words so biting that Bucky winced. Steve had claimed he'd forgiven Sharon for her deception two years ago, but apparently he hadn't been entirely truthful. "I spent two years looking for Bucky and you-."

"You _never_ asked me directly if I knew anything. I promised myself that if you did, if you literally asked me what I knew about Barnes, that I would tell you the truth." Bucky could hear her voice shaking. "I promised myself I would _never_ directly lie to you about him. And I kept that promise. I never lied to your face, not once. But you, _you_ lied to me. How many times did I call you, asking if you or anyone here had heard anything about Mel?"

Bucky didn't have to see Steve's face to know he was probably looking away from Sharon right now, just like how he'd looked away from Stark when he discovered the truth about his parents deaths. "Sharon, it's not that simple. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so badly it hurt, but Bucky threatened to break my phone."

"There's more than one phone in this place," Sharon shot back and in his mind, Bucky visualized her turning away from Steve, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "That's not an excuse."

"It's not just about the phone," Steve took a deep breath. "Mel-."

"Don't you dare talk about her like you know her!" 

"Neither one of us know her! You had no idea about those scars until a team of doctors came out and told you they were there! You've known the woman fifteen  years and she never told you. And I don't think she told you anything before leaving New York either." There was a tapping of feet across the floor and Steve's spoke again, his voice much softer than before. "I'm sorry, that was over the line."

"Yeah," Sharon agreed, no longer sounding so angry, just exhausted and sad. "It was." _I should not be here, I really should not be here._ Bucky was intruding on a very personal conversation, a private moment that had nothing to do with him. He should have left already, he should have walked away, but he still couldn't move.  

"I'm sorry," Steve said again. 

"No, you're right. I _don't_ know Mel. And I guess I never did-that's what hurts the most." The agent's voice broke then, sending a cold rush over Bucky and once again, the idea crossed his mind to get the hell out of the hallway and pretend like he'd never heard any of this at all. But he still couldn't move, his legs wouldn't obey his mind. 

"Sharon..."

"I thought I knew her, but I didn't. I was missing the biggest parts of who she is. And I never knew suspected it. Not for a moment."

"She hid it from everyone," Steve said, all traces of anger gone from his voice. "I don't think you should take it personally."

"How am I supposed to take it then? She was-is my best friend and I never knew anything about her. In college, she hated being touched, you'd literally brush her hand and she'd yank her arm away like it was on a stove burner. I used to make _fun_ of her for that. I teased her about it! And the whole time...It wasn't her fault." Sharon stopped speaking and with a cold sense of clarity, Bucky realized she'd started crying. 

That gave him the shock he needed to move and though he hated himself for it, the conversation he'd overheard playing over and over in his mind. Sharon was here and she knew Melody was too. Right now, that was his biggest priority, warning her in case Sharon decided to seek her out. Bucky did think they needed to talk, but not because Melody was ambushed into speaking. That would never work, if and when she and Sharon talked, it needed to be something they both wanted to do.

Bucky walked as normally he could towards his apartment, the key in his pocket ten times heavier than usual. This was not going to be an easy conversation to have. _They need to talk, and I think Melody needs it even more than Sharon. If she really knew how badly her friend was hurting right now, that might be the push she needs to talk._ Bucky knew Melody's character, if she truly felt Sharon needed her, she'd find the strength to overcome her fear and be there. And from what he'd overheard, Sharon truly needed her friend right now. He'd never heard the agent sound so heartbroken before, not even when she talked about her late aunt. But being fair, Sharon had expected Peggy to die, her health had been declining rapidly before she passed away. Sharon had never expected this, not even in her wildest dreams.

"Melody?" Bucky called as he opened the apartment door. "You here?"

"Yeah," she answered him almost instantly and she sounded upbeat, even cheerful. Great. Now he was going to be the one to ruin her good mood. 

Bucky shut the door behind him and turned his head. Melody was sitting up the kitchen table, a small collection of papers spread out in front of her and an intent look on her face as she read them over. "What's all this?" he asked, sitting down and wanting to give her a few more moments of peace before he had to tell her what happened.

"T'challa wants to create a new skills lab at South Central Hospital using the simulation technology. He wanted my opinion on it." 

"Don't you already use the sim to practice your skills?"

"Yes," Melody agreed. "I do, but what he wants to do is one a much larger scale. One simulation can be created, five or six at once though, that's harder. It's possible for it to be modified, but whether or not it'll be advanced enough to provide accurate teaching is another matter."

"And that's where you come in?"

"Yep."

"And what you do think?"

"The sim is very useful for practicing standard procedures, but we already have methods for that and they are just as effective."

"So you don't think it's a good idea?"

"No," Melody's grin widened, making her look a bit wild. "I think this could be incredible, but I don't want to apply it where we already have adequate tools to train with."

Bucky tried to swallow the lump that was building in his throat. "Then what do you want to apply it to?"

"Trauma and crisis," Melody replied still wearing that manic grin. "If we could simulate large scale disasters with _multiple_ traumas," her eyes glowed as she said that. "It would give the interns and residents some seriously  good training. As close to the real thing as possible and if we can get it right and apply it, prepare people for when a real disaster strikes..." She trailed off, lost in the possibility of it all. 

"You could have a lot of lives," Bucky finished. "They'd make fewer mistakes."

"In theory anyways," she corrected, holding up her index finger. "Training  can only prepare for so much, but yes. I'd like to think this could help a lot of people and I think it would be way more effective than dummies and note cards."

"What?"

"When I run a mock drill, they get CPR dummies and while they treat those, if they miss things, like say covering them to prevent hypothermia, then I hand them a notecard that brings on the latest problem. It's not...immersive enough. When it's just a plastic dummy, they slack sometimes. Think it's a waste of time when they could be working on real patients." Melody rolled her eyes. "Trauma isn't exactly the prettiest of specialties, but it's important and  if I had something that looked like a living, breathing human, if their hands looked like they were covered in blood; well I think they'd take it far more seriously. They'd finally understand why they need to learn these things."

"Wouldn't that be bad for them though? To keep seeing severely injured or dying people, even if they are fake?"

Melody shrugged. "I think if they can't stand to see injured or dying people then they need to chose a new career path. So," she gathered the papers together, picked them up and tapped them on the table a second to straighten them out. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you? You look upset. Did you have a fight with Steve?"

 _No but Steve had a fight with his girlfriend, who by the way is in his apartment right now and desperate to see you._ "No, he and I didn't fight." Bucky grimaced, this wasn't going to be good. "Melody, please don't panic, but Sharon is here. She knows you're here."

Melody's smile collapsed and the color drained out of her face. "What?"

"Sharon is here, I don't know when she arrived and I don't know how she found out you were here. I just know she's here." Bucky got up from his chair and knelt down by Melody. "Please," he said, meeting her eyes were which wide with fear. "Don't panic."

"Yeah that's great advice," she snapped, rocking back and forth in her seat, limbs twitching as she pulled them off the table and wrapped them around her torso. "Very helpful."

"It is going to be fine," Bucky said firmly, trying to sound like Steve. He was so good at inspiring people, making them believe-it was a skill he envied very much just then. 

"You don't know that," Melody said, her lips trembling and tears brimming in her eyes as her breath wheezed in and out of her lungs. "There is no way this will be fine. We will never be fine again."

"Can I touch you? Is that okay?" Touching was strange with her, if she was in the right mood, she loved it, but when she was panicked like this, physical contact made it worse. He had a scar to remind him of that fact, so now, if she was ever in that sort of mood, Bucky mad sure to ask if she could handle physical contact.

Melody nodded and Bucky let his hand slide up her leg, moving towards her hip and then back down, hoping the motion would help her relax. "I don't think Sharon is going to seek you out. Not right away. From what I overheard," he winced, still feeling a slight sense of shame at what he'd done. "She's really, really upset and hurt."

"Of course she is, I've been lying to her for fifteen years."

"No," he pulled her hand off her body and twined his around it. "She was telling Steve, about how you were in college. How you couldn't stand to be touched-no matter how small it was."

Melody looked away from him, the veins in her neck standing out as she clenched her teeth. "I remember. Twenty-four years I was like that."

"Yeah," he lifted her hand to his mouth and gave her a quick kiss. Once again, Bucky found himself missing his other arm. "She told Steve how she used to mock you for that and now...Now she feels horrible for it."

"She shouldn't. I liked her doing that, it meant she believed me."

"Yeah, but Sharon doesn't see it that way." Bucky paused, thinking carefully about his next words. They'd either piss her off or give her the push she needed to talk to her friend. "All she can see, is that she was laughing at you over something years of abuse created. She thinks she should have noticed and she didn't." 

"That's not her fault." Her head rolled forwards and hung towards the ground. Her free hand moved up to her face and she groaned heavily, like she was annoyed. "Please tell me Steve has enough sense to tell her that it's not her fault." 

"Of course he did, but she'll never believe him. Or anyone for that matter, except you. Melody, look at me." Another reason to wish he had another hand, he could've used his other one to tilt her face up.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I know what you're going to say," she answered, her voice high and squeaky. "And you're right and I _hate_ that you're right." A tear dripped off her face and down onto her lap. "I know that I need to talk to Sharon, I know she needs the truth from me and I hate it." Melody's looked up, wiping her face with the tips of her fingers while her other hand squeezed Bucky's. "I hate that I have to tell her everything and I hate that it means she's going to know that I'm not who she thought I was and that she's going to realize just how fucked up I am."

"You're not fucked up," Bucky said, "not as badly as you think anyways." He squeezed her hand and gave her a smile that she did not return. "Everyone is  a little screwed up, some are worse than others and you're probably on that worse end of things. But that doesn't define you, it's just a part of you."

"I killed a man while he slept, I had other choices and I didn't use them. I chose to kill."

"You chose to kill one person-who only fits the barest definition of the word by the way." No one could harm a child deserved to be considered a human. They were animals that needed to be put down. "And you've saved hundreds of others, you even have one in front of you right now." He squeezed her hand. "That's who you are. That is  your legacy. Not him, not what he did to you." 

Melody took a shaky breath and gave him a fragile smile. "I'm glad you see it like that, but not everyone will."

"Caring about what everyone thinks is overrated, fuck everyone."  She laughed, but a few more tears leaked from her eyes; despite the sound she'd made, nothing about this was funny for her. Bucky sighed and shifted his stance on the floor, the hardwood was making his knees hurt. 

"I need to see Sharon. I'll have to face her sooner or later, might as well be now. No anesthesia." 

Bucky wasn't exactly sure what that phrase was supposed to mean, but he let it go. Melody seemed to be moving down the right track and he wasn't going to distract her from it. "Do you want me to go with you? To talk to Sharon I mean, moral support and all that." He didn't want to witness that conversation, but if she wanted him there, Bucky would go. Anything to help make this easier for her, anything to ease her fear. 

"No," she shook her head. "This is one thing you can't protect me from." She got onto her feet, still holding his hand and Bucky followed her lead, thankful and wincing as he did. 

"I know," Bucky replied, letting go of her hand and grabbing her waist to pull her to him. "And I'm so sorry." He rested his chin on the top of her head, wishing he could do more to help her and hating that he couldn't. "I wish there was something I could do."

"There is," Melody said, her voice muffled since her face was buried against his chest. She backed away and Bucky saw that her eyes were still shiny with tears, but they weren't spilling over. "There is something you can do for me."

"Anything." 

"I'm going to come back here after I see Sharon," she looked down, swallowing hard. "I'm going to come back and I'm going to be a little broken. And I'll be okay, I know that and eventually, I'll suture myself back together, but first, I'm going to be broken." Melody's hand curled around his face, eyes locked on him. "I need you to be here, I need you to hold me together until I can fix myself. Okay?"

Bucky turned his head, pressing a kiss against her palm. "I'll be here," he promised. "I'll even grab a kit and help you."

Melody laughed for the second time that day. "You don't even know how to do a baseball stitch."

"Then I'll grab a stapler," Bucky said with a small shrug. "I know you've been broken before and I know last time, you had to put yourself back together on your own, but you don't have to do that this time. You're not alone." He was about to say more, but didn't get the chance, Melody's mouth was on his, hard and insistent. Her arms locked around his neck and Bucky stumbled back at the sudden force, but recovered quickly enough.  He didn't have time to be surprised, he was too busy being overwhelmed. The bitter taste of coffee on her lips, the way her hands knotted into his hair and the press of her body against his-it didn't leave room for confusion. The only thing that mattered was her. They hadn't kissed like this since their last night together before Melody had returned to New York. Bucky hadn't realized how badly he'd missed this. But now, as he held her close, his head spinning the loss hit him like a brick. He'd missed holding her close to him, missed kissing her until she was weak at  the knees and breathless like she was now. And judging by the way Melody was clinging to him, she'd missed it just as much.

She broke away, holding his face in her hands and breathing hard, like she'd just run a marathon. "Not that I'm complaining," he said, his lips tingling from their kiss and breathing harder than normal.  "But what was that for?"

"I love you," Melody replied, leaning towards him again and giving him another kiss, far shorter and softer than the one they'd shared seconds before. "I'll see you soon."

"I'll be her," and with that, Melody left the circle of his arm and walked towards the door. He watched her go, heart sinking lower and lower into his chest with each step she took. _Sharon,_ he thought _,_ not sure if he was worrying to himself or praying.  _Please, please let me be right about you. Please, don't hurt her._ Melody was strong, she'd recovered from a great number of things. Sutured herself back together with dull instruments and no training, but if Bucky was wrong, if Sharon couldn't see the situation the way he did, he did not think, not even with all her skills and strength that Melody would recover.


	58. Fifty-Eight

Melody couldn't look back as she left that apartment. As she left her safe place, James's arms (or rather his arm). She knew if she did, the weak grasp she had on whatever was left of her courage would break. If she looked back, she, Doctor "Freezer" would stop and freeze, too panicked and terrified to move one more inch. So Melody kept her eyes trained ahead of her, not too far or again, the same situation would occur. She didn't look any farther than one step at a time. That was all she could bear to do. She knew she had to do this, that it could not be avoided and she had been lucky to stave off the inevitable for as long as she had, but now the inevitable had come for her. How Sharon had found her here, Melody had no idea. Maybe Steve had broken down, called her and told her the truth. Maybe she'd just come for a visit, desperate and someone had let it slip that Melody was there as well. The reason didn't matter, what mattered was what came next, the conversation they had to have. The secrets Melody had to confess to her friend and the inevitable ruin it would wreck on their relationship. 

 _I had fifteen years,_ she thought wrapping her arms around her torso as she walked. Pressure could sometimes dull pain, but the added tension across her ribs did nothing to lessen the pain in her heart. _I had fifteen years with her, good years and I'll always have that, no matter what this does to us._ Melody tried to hold onto that thought as she dragged her feet towards Steve's apartment. The closer she got, the more her heart burned in her chest and the more fear flooded her veins. She'd lost her career the moment she refused Anthony's request to move. That choice had sealed her fate. Now, she was standing on the brink of losing Sharon and as she raised her arm to knock on the door, Melody was sure she preferred the gun. At least that pain didn't last a lifetime.

There was a tapping of feet behind the door and then it opened. The face of Steve Rogers greeted her and the moment he saw her, the grin he'd been wearing vanished. "Hi," she whispered, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he looked over his shoulder. "Sharon, I'm stepping out for a bit." And before she could muster a reply, Steve had already stepped into the hallway and Melody had slipped past him into the apartment.

"Steve, hang on, I'll," Sharon was in the kitchen, her back to the door but even as she spoke she turned around. "Mel?" she asked, her eyes narrowing rather than widening in surprise. Just like James had said; Sharon was already aware of her presence in the compound.

"Hi Sharon," she whispered. Melody looked at her friend, but not due to any courage. All her courage was being used to keep her in the room, rather than bolting. The thing that kept her eyes locked with Sharon's was empathy. She knew, if their places were reserved, if Sharon had done this to her, she would have at least wanted her friend to look at her when they finally saw each other face to face. 

"Really?" Sharon said through gritted teeth, her hands clenched into fists as her sides and the tendons in her neck bulging against her skin. Melody knew she was trying not to shout."You _vanished_ from New York without a word, you didn't say goodbye or tell anyone where you went, I spent the better part of two days going out of my mind with worry and then even when you decide to tell me you're not _dead_ , I still have _no ide_ a where you are. And when I do finally figure out where you disappeared to, it's not because you told me, it's because they sent your fucking suitcase back to your apartment because the airline had no idea where you were staying! And you're just saying 'hi'? Like that is even _appropriate_?" Sharon's face flushed dark red with anger and she huffed out a long breath. Melody blinked _. That_ was how she'd found her, so simple and so stupid. Jack knew Sharon, he knew how close they were and if anything had come to her when she was gone, the very first person he would have contacted would've been Sharon. He would have assumed Sharon knew where she was. And given that only one airline made regular trips to Wakanda, it wouldn't have been hard for Sharon to put two and two together.

"I'm not really sure what else to say," Melody muttered and she sighed. "Do you mind if I sit down?" Her legs were staring to feel weak and it had nothing to do with her previous surgery. If she wasn't careful, she'd collapse. 

Sharon's gaze didn't soften. "Fine."

Melody sank into one of the chairs at the table and stared at the wooden table top. "You must have questions. After everything that happened, I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"Nice deduction Sherlock," she said with scathing sarcasm. "But what's it matter? I had tons of questions in New York, you never answered them. I asked you everyday to talk to me and you said no every, single day." She spat out the last words like venom. 

Melody winced, she hated seeing this side of Sharon, even if she did deserve it. She had every right to be angry. "I know that. But if you're willing, I'll answer your questions now. You just have to ask." 

Sharon glared at her for several long minutes, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it didn't seem like they'd move for a few years. Finally, she shut her eyes and sighed. "The scars-the doctors told me about twenty percent of your body was covered. I only saw the one on your arm."

"Really?" Melody asked before she could stop herself. She'd thought Sharon had seen more. "But the nurses told me you screamed when you saw me."

"I did," Sharon replied tightly. "Seeing you hooked up to life support was pretty scary. The scars, how many do you have?"

Melody winced, the selfsame skin warming as she spoke.  "I don't know. I've never counted." _And I don't think I could, not even if I wanted to try._ Even if she could bring herself to stare at her disfigured body long enough to get a good look, she was sure counting wouldn't work. They overlapped too much.  She stared at the table and took a deep breath, tremors running up and down her body. She could never explain the scars, not adequately enough for Sharon, so she had one option left. With shaking hands, she began to unbutton her shirt.

"Mel," Sharon said, sounding more startled than angry. It made sense, Sharon had been expecting answers, not a strip tease. "What are you- _Oh my God_!" Her shriek was ear-splitting and Melody winced against the harshness of it. It sounded like every female victim in every horror film she'd ever seen. It made sense, Sharon was certainly witnessing a horror show and it wasn't over yet.

She turned around, hiding the mass of scars on her back and revealing the five carved onto her chest and stomach. She shut her eyes, looking away from Sharon but it didn't matter. The image of her friend's horrified expression was burned into the back of her eyelids. Sharon had turned bone white, like death itself. Her eyes were wide, full of tears and her mouth was dropped open in shock and horror.  Melody turned away from her again, providing another lovely view of her back. She pulled on her blouse, blood pounding in her ears and her hands shaking worse than ever. Then she hung her head and waited. All she could hear was Sharon's short, panicked breathing.

Finally, after about ten minutes, the sound was broken, replaced by words. "The doctors...they said it was...but I _never_ , never thought. Oh God," Sharon's voice broke. "Mel, what _happened_ to you?"

"You can't guess? You heard my conversation with Moira." Melody replied, trembling and her eyes burning. Son of a bitch she was _sick_ and _tired_ of crying. It felt like all she'd been doing since she'd left Wakanda over two months ago. 

"I heard the end of it," Sharon replied meekly. All traces of anger gone from her voice. It seemed she'd been shocked right out of the feeling. "I heard you ask why she didn't chose you. I have a theory, but I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me yourself."

 _Of course you would want that_ , Melody realized, _y_ _ou've had theories before and they were wrong._ She found her voice. "John Frasier was not who everyone thought he was."

"He did this to you." It wasn't a question, but Melody answered anyways, nodding her confirmation. "Oh God," Sharon broke off, making a sort of choking noise. It sounded like crying but Melody wasn't going to turn her head to look. Seeing Sharon's face once had been bad enough and she didn't need another look. "Mel...why didn't you tell me?"

 "I couldn't," she answered back, her voice small, even to her own ears. Her shaking hand curled into a fist on the table, blue veins and tendons stark against her skin. And that was true, for so long, she hadn't been able to say anything. Not until James had lifted that weight from her chest and shown her what it was like to really live, rather than just exist. 

"Did anyone know? Outside of...you know, you and your...parents." Sharon hesitated on her use of the word. 

Melody blinked and a warm tear leaked down her face. She wasn't just going to be revealing her family secrets today. "Yes, James, he knows." Her arms wound around her torso, shaking with unshed tears and fear. This was going to hurt Sharon too. 

"James? As in James Barnes?"

"Yes." Melody still couldn't look at her. Selfish as it was, seeing the heartbreak on Sharon's face was more than she could bear. She had a task here, she had to tell the whole truth and if she broke now, before she could get it out she would fail. Sharon deserved more than that. 

"Bucky? Bucky knew?"

"Who else do I know with that name?"

"You told him?"

"Yes." There was more to the story than that and Melody was ready to offer those parts, provided that was something Sharon wanted to know. She was the one who had to direct this conversation.

"You told him, willingly?

"Yes." That was sort of true, he'd never forced the truth out of her, but circumstances had played a role in her confessing the truth. If that night in the kitchen hadn't happened, if she hadn't spun wildly out of control, Melody wasn't sure if she would've told Jams the truth or not. The thought left her feeling cold.

Sharon said nothing at first, but Melody heard her slow, deep breathing behind her. This made her skin prickle, whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be good. "So, you could tell him and not me?"

"That's correct." James had been different. He'd had no one to speak to, save her and Sharon. He had blood on his hands too, indirectly to be sure, but still. Melody had also had power over him, he'd needed a safe place to stay and she'd been the one to hold that key. He'd been in no position to deny her anything she asked. But Sharon wasn't like that, not at all. Sharon wasn't without her share of sins, but none where so large as the one Melody carried. Sharon didn't need her the way James had, she could walk away at any time and never look back.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I don't know," she whispered and it was the most honest answer she could give. With Sharon, Melody's desire to tell the truth was always exactly equal with her fear of what would happen if she did. And she had no idea if any events (save for her secrets being exposed against her will) would have been enough to change that. So much for courage, she thought, recalling what James had told her about courage. He claimed she had it but he was wrong. She'd known long ago that lying to Sharon was wrong, but she hadn't been able to tell the truth. She'd kept quiet, too scared to risk losing Sharon.

"Don't you trust me?"

"It's not like that." It wasn't a lack of trust, it was the presence of fear. The fear of losing one of the only three things in her life that had ever truly meant something to her. One was already gone. 

"Then what is it Mel? What's stopping you from talking to me, your best friend? You told me I'm your family-doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Melody finally turned her head, looking Sharon. Her head was bowed and the bit of her face she could see was bright red with anger and clenched tight. "It's everything to me. You are the _only_ family I've ever had." The first person to tell her 'I love you' and then prove it with her actions.

"Then why," Sharon looked up at her, the tension not leaving her jaw, but her eyes weren't hard and angry anymore. Not like they'd been earlier, there was anger there, but sadness too, marked by the tears brimming inside. "If I'm supposed to be your family, why did you trust Barnes over me? He's known you for what? Six months, seven tops? I've known you for over a _decade_. I have never kept a secret from you in that time, not one. Because I love you and because I trusted you above everyone else. I thought you trusted me too, but apparently not. I'm just like everyone else, except Bucky apparently," she said his name with a heavy bite of sarcasm and crossed her arms defensively. 

"That's not true," Melody reminded her quietly. "You didn't tell me you were an agent. Not until after you got stabbed."

Sharon scowled. "That's different. I was not _allowed_ to tell you. You know that."

"I do, I'm just establishing fact." Melody laced her fingers together, swallowing hard. "And I do trust you-"

"And yet, a stranger with a kill list longer than the list of people you know was someone you thought to confide over me." 

"Don't talk about him like that!" She snapped, her desire to reassure Sharon and explain taking a backseat to the biting annoyance she felt hearing that. "It wasn't his fault! And James is not a stranger." She added the last part in a much calmer tone of voice. "I know him."

"You trust him," it sounded more like an accusation than a statement and Melody, had she been in a different headspace, wouldn't have risen to the bait. But she wasn't, she was still human, still able to feel and right now, she was feeling angry. Trusting James didn't meant she trusted Sharon less, it only meant they had different relationships.

"I trust him with my life," she said, her voice ringing with certainty. 

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Great idea, too bad his mind could go blank at any moment and then he'll strangle you."

Melody's temper flared. "Don't _ever_ say that again!" She remembered that day with perfect clarity and looking back, the event was terrifying. Looking at James, knowing he had no idea who she was, was scary. Knowing he could be forced to forget her and subsequently do her harm was scary. But that wasn't where the story ended. She remembered the time he avoided her afterwards, dipping out of any room whenever she entered. How he'd never meet her eyes if they passed in a hallway. The way his voice broke as he cried, begging her to leave him so she'd be safe. The guilt that had eaten away at him for days as he blamed himself for the bruises on her neck, equating them with what John had done so many years before. 

Sharon raised her eyebrows."It's true, I don't like it anymore than you do, but it's the truth. He could hurt you again and trusting that he won't is pretty stupid."

"James _didn't_ hurt me, _Hydra_ did. There's a difference."

"I doubt you'll be saying that if you wind up in the hospital again," Sharon said, sounding more concerned than spiteful. "And that could happen Mel. He _could_ put you in the hospital, whether he means to do it or not doesn't matter."

"Yes. It does." A single choice contained so much power. Choices were what defined anyone. If a person could chose between good and evil, what they chose determined who they were. Melody had chosen both-it put her somewhere in between it all. 

"He can't be trusted," Sharon said flatly. "Not so long as Hydra is stuck in his brain and anyone with an ounce of logic should know that and you, Doctor Melody Frasier are the most logical person I know. So, with that in mind," she lifted her arm, fingers pinched together as she spoke. A sure sign she was agitated, she only talked with her hands when she was emotional. "I cannot fathom, not for _one minute_ how in the hell you decided to trust Barnes over me."

 _She wants me to trust her? Fine. Here's another secret_. "I love him."


	59. Fifty-Nine

The room was suddenly quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Sharon's eyes were the size of plates, her hand clamped over her mouth and had it not been that way, Melody was sure her jaw would've been hanging open. "I love him," she said again. "I'm in love with James." This was the one secret that didn't pain her part with, that didn't leave her paralyzed with fear at the thought of anyone knowing. Probably because it was the only really good thing she had left.

"I heard you the first time," Sharon muttered, hand falling off her face and sighing. She crossed her arms again and to Melody's surprise, pinched herself, hard. "Ouch," she complained, rubbing the spot with two of her fingers.

"Well I don't know what you were expecting," Melody commented. "Nerves respond to stimuli and pinching is a painful kind of stimuli."

"I'm trying to wake myself up," Sharon shot back, still rubbing her arm ."Because that is the only explanation for why you just said that."

Melody frowned and took a deep breath, trying to hold back her anger which was rising up again. _Be patient with her. She never knew, never had any idea that he was more than a patient to you._ "Or the explanation is that I love him and I'm telling you that? Because that's exactly what's happening here."

"Then you're joking, you're messing with me in the hope that I won't be angry if I start laughing."

Melody held up her hand, closing all her fingers down into a fist, save her index. "Number one, I don't have a sense of humor so I can't joke and secondly," she raised another finger, "why, if I had the ability to be funny, would I joke about something that serious?" She lowered her arm. "I love him, Sharon. I've been in love with him for two years."

"You were with Derrick," Sharon said, still in apparent denial. "You were dating him."

"Not until _after_ James left," Melody reminded her, more forcefully than was necessary probably, but her patience was running thin. Anger had that effect on her. "I was trying to move on, James...We never thought we'd seen one another again, he wanted me to move on. To be happy and I was trying. That was why I agreed to go out with Derrick in the first place."

Sharon stared blankly at her. Still uncomprehending and she stammered out another denial-ridden phrase as she tried to process the new information. "He was an _ass_ to you-."

"At first," Melody defended James. "He was hurting, he was scared and alone and in pain. How is anyone supposed to go through what he did and be a ray of sunshine right away?" Sharon didn't answer. "Exactly, and he wasn't like that the entire time he was in the house. That was just a few weeks. He changed, apparently you gave him a wake up call and he started treating me with respect and accepted my help when I offered it." 

"And that's why you fell for him?" Sharon asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because he respected you and listened to you? Damn, it's a wonder  you never had a crush on Strange!" Her eyes rolled skyward as she named the neuro surgeon Melody had once consulted with on a tricky case.

"That's because Stephen Strange is a prick whom I daydreamed about punching at least once when I had to work with him. I never thought about what it would be like to give James a concussion, I thought about what it would be like to kiss him. Or to have him hold me on purpose rather than just move over in his sleep."

"And did he?"

"No, he didn't do any of those things." Well, he'd held her once, but that had been after a nightmare of hers. But Melody wasn't going to get sidetracked again. She had a task to do here and she had to do it. She'd avoided it for fifteen years, but the moment was there now whether she wanted it or not. 

The scowl on Sharon's face lessened. "What?"

"He never did any of those things. But I did. I held him, I kissed him and I shocked the hell out of him when I did because I'd done a damn good job making him think I didn't care." 

"And then you told him what happened? All it took was love?" Sharon rolled her eyes. "For the record, if it was, I'm going to be very hurt by that."

"No, he knew before we kissed. I had a bad night and destroyed the kitchen and he saw me do it."

"You did _what_?" 

" I went crazy and I broke a window, a vase and an entire set of dishes before James restrained me and I passed out from exhaustion because I'd reached my limit. You saw what happened to me there, imagine how it feels for me every time I have to walk through those doors again."

For the first time in fifteen minutes, Sharon's angry, sarcastic expression softened. "Mel..."

"He saw the scar on my arm that night," she continued, her hand falling over the same scar as she spoke. It was covered now, by the sleeves of her shirt, but she didn't need to see it to know where it was. "And by then, even though I didn't know it, I loved him too much to just throw him out and abandon him. So I had one choice left. I told him what happened and I made him swear never to tell anyone." She watched Sharon's face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction but her face was unreadable. Intent and focused, but no emotion. It was the same face she wore when she was profiling criminals.

"I still don't understand," she said finally, drawing her folded hands towards her face. Sharon took a deep breath, eyes closing a moment and then her hands fell back down, though her fingers were still pressured tightly together. "I don't understand how you fell in love with Bucky, why you never told me or why you lied about John. I just don't understand," her thumbs hitched onto the pocket of her shorts and Sharon swayed back and forth a moment, biting her lip as she contemplated the information she'd been given. "I'm trying, Mel, I am trying to understand, but I can't." The agent shrugged then. "I really can't."

She sighed heavily and left her perch in the kitchen, falling down onto the couch and burying her face in her hands. Melody winced seeing that, she had only seen Sharon look like that once before, and that was when she'd gotten the news that Peggy had died. Melody took a deep breath and moved towards the couch as well. She settled herself on the far cushion and slouched forward, exhaustion running through her as she spoke up.

"I can't imagine how this has been for you. I can't even being to think about how overwhelmed and angry you are at everything. How angry you must be at me and I don't blame you at all." Melody clenched her hands together, a sob building painfully in her chest. This was the last moments she'd have, the last moments where she was privileged enough to have the love and respect of Sharon Carter. She'd cherish them for the rest of her life. _Let me share this with you_ , she thought, _one last moment where you're my family._ "I love James because he makes me feel safe, I love him because when he saw my scars the first time was also the night of our first kiss. He knew that John had beaten me, he knew I had more than just the scar on my arm, but I'd never told him how bad it was. I expected that his reaction would be more like yours." She laughed without humor which quickly turned into a soft cry and the honey-colored wooden planks on the floor blurred before her eyes. "But that wasn't how he reacted, not at all. He kissed me," Melody felt her face warm and a real smile came to her face, just for a second as she recalled the sensation of his lips against her skin. "Every scar he could reach he kissed and he made me promise never to tell him I was ugly again." She looked sideways at Sharon, her head was still buried in her hands. "And I love him because when he was faced with a choice between my safety and his, he chose me."

Melody could have said more, but her words were gone as she wiped at her face, her fingertips coming away damp. It was a relief, to finally say these things aloud. To recount some of the many reasons she'd fallen in love with the Winter Solider. Saying them aloud made them feel more tangible, real. They weren't existing in their own bubble anymore, outside of the real world. They were part of it now and the thought sent ripples of both terror and excitement through her, despite how tired she was. Despite the poisonous dread creeping slowly but surely through her blood. 

"Those sound like good reasons to love someone," Sharon whispered, looking up from her hands, tears running down her face though she was smiling. "That's pretty...pretty solid logic." She laughed then, wiping her fingers under her eyes. "And I'm still trying to process that, but..." Sharon smiled, "I've never heard you talk about a guy like that before. So maybe I'll have to give Barnes more credit than I did before when it came to you."

Melody's heart shattered. Even after everything she knew know, even knowing Melody had been lying for so long she still didn't want to leave. Sharon still wanted her in her life. The apartment blurred and she ducked her head, trying to breathe as the hourglass ticked down to several grains of sand. Her time was almost out. Sharon would never be in her life again after this.

"Mel?" Sharon touched her shoulder, a kind and reassuring gesture. "Hey, it's okay." Her warm hand drifted off her shoulder, rubbing her back. The same way she did when Melody got sick in college. Sharon had come to take care of her, providing chicken soup and rubbing her back. "I'm still incredibly mad at you, but we'll get through this."

Blood began to pound painfully in Melody's  ears, drowning out sound and yet a high pitched scream was stabbing at her ears. A ghost, the sound of her twelve year old self faking terror as she watched John die. "No," she said softly. "No we're not going to get through this." Melody drew away from her, lungs screaming as she tried to breathe but each one felt like fire. The moment was here and she wasn't ready. She'd never be ready.

"Mel, are you okay?" Sharon reached for her arm, the gesture meant to be comforting but it wasn't. It burned and Melody drew away, violent tremors rocketing through her body as the sensation of spattering tissue brushed across her face.

 _No, no I'm not okay.  "_ I'm not okay, but I have never been okay. I don't know what okay is. Sharon?" she said, hit by sudden inspiration. After this moment, when the remaining grains of sand fell, they'd never speak again. Not unless Sharon was going to arrest her. So she needed to say one more thing, one last thing as Sharon's best friend.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be angry at Steve," she said, James's hadn't gone into detail about the conversation he'd overheard, but there was no way it hadn't been an argument. "He wasn't trying to hurt you by not telling you where I was. I never asked, so I don't know for sure, but I honestly think he was just trying to help me. I told him once, when James was refusing to go to the lab, that trying to force people into talking never worked. I think he was trying to apply that to me, so when I saw you again, I'd be ready to talk and you'd get your answers."

"I'm still missing one-why'd you leave me in the dark for so long? Why didn't you tell me about what happened to you?"

"I'm incredibly messed up," she said, taking a deep breath as the sands ticked down even further. The moment was seconds away now. The moment where Sharon would never look at her again, not without contempt and disgust in her eyes. " I think on some level, you've realized it before."

"You're a terrible cook," she admitted, smiling but Melody didn't return it. "That's hardly a serious defect Mel."

"I'm a surgeon, you've seen me operate once. Remember?"

"Yeah. I was in the gallery when you were working on Steve. You were incredible." She smiled at her again and it was full of warmth and pride. Even when she was angry. "You were a badass. I mean, that was Captain America on your table and you didn't even flinch. You impressed the hell out of Nick Fury that day, that's no small feat." Sharon nudged her with her shoulder but Melody still couldn't smile. This was  the last time she'd do that. 

"Yeah, I didn't flinch, not when Steve was on my table, not when you were bleeding to death in my kitchen, not when the subway tunnel collapsed and I was surrounded by wounded people and not when James escaped his restraints and attacked me in the lab."

"Well you probably did flinch a little," Sharon said, "I mean-."

"No. No, I didn't."

"Mel, there's nothing wrong with being afraid-."

"That's just it," Melody looked down at her hands. Her first and most important tool as a surgeon. The tool that had performed murder before they'd been put to use in medicine. "I wasn't afraid. Not during any one of those instances because I...I didn't let myself be scared. That's why my interns and residents call me Doctor Freezer. Because when I'm in the OR, I am cold as ice. I don't _feel_ anything, from the moment I walk into an OR to the moment I leave, I have no emotions. I do what I'm supposed to do, I let logic rule every choice I make and if things go wrong, I don't fight because I know there's nothing more to be done. There's no logic in fighting for a lost cause." Her hands started to shake and Melody curled them into fists, breathing hard. "I know that it's messed up, I know it's wrong and that's why I became a doctor. I wanted to save lives so that dark place wouldn't..." She broke off, the words climbing painfully up her throat, like hooks in her skin. 

 Sharon rested a hand on Melody's shoulder. "You're scaring me."

 _You should be scared._ Melody looked up at her. Sharon would never believe her if she couldn't look her in the eye and say it. "I wanted to save lives with that darkness, so it wouldn't only be a tool for murder."

"Excuse me?" Sharon said, frowning at her. "You, you need to talk louder, I can't hear you."

"The first time I shut off my emotions," she said, amazed that her voice wasn't shaking as she did as Sharon requested. "The first time I looked at another human being and turned off my emotions I wasn't saving someone's life. I was ending it."

"Mel, what are you talking about?"

"John Frasier didn't commit suicide, I killed him." She said the words,  a knife driving into her heart as Sharon pulled her hand away from her, eyes wide with horror.  Her face turned white and a trembling hand covered her mouth partly as she shook her head, beyond words but she didn't need them. Melody knew what she was trying to say. _It's not true_ , her wide blue eyes were pleading. _Please tell me it's not true._ But Melody couldn't tell her that, Sharon had asked for the truth. She deserved the truth.  

"I stole the gun out of his safe, put on a pair of gloves so my fingerprints wouldn't show when the police came,  snuck upstairs while he was sleeping and I shot him. I put the barrel underneath his chin so it would look like a suicide and when his body thrashed I threw the gloves into the fireplace." Melody didn't want to go into the details now, nor had she wanted to when she'd confessed the truth to James, but she had to. They had both believed the best of her-believed she, Doctor Frasier, a surgeon valued life far too much to ever take one. That she'd never break her Hippocratic oath: _do no harm._ But they were wrong and the only way to break through that belief was to go into detail. Things she wouldn't have needed to bother with if it was a lie, like Sharon and James had both wanted to believe when they first heard the truth.

"I've wanted to tell you so many times." She reached for Sharon's hand, trying to reassure her, hoping against all hope that this wouldn't go the way Melody knew it would. But before her fingers could even touch the agent, she jerked away. 

"You need to go," Sharon said, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her free arm around them, deliberately not looking at Melody. 

"Sharon-." She tried again but she didn't know what she was trying for. There was nothing here anymore. Not for Sharon anyway. The bond that had been between them had been shattered. She wasn't Mel anymore. She was a murderer. 

"I need a moment...Please just..." the tendons in her neck stood out, her right hand flying up off her legs before curling into a fist and slamming down onto the couch. "I can't be around you. I need to think so please, just go."

Melody stood up, amazed her legs could hold her. "Okay," she whispered, "I'll go." And with the most effort it had ever taken her, she took a step forward and then another, and one more after that. Inch by inch towards the door as an icy, stinging feeling ran across her entire body, starting at her heart and spreading like poison. _This is it. This is goodbye._ She reached for the door handle, the metal burning her frozen skin and Melody dragged herself over the threshold, legs shaking violently. _This is it,_ she thought as she closed the door behind her, teeth chattering as she made her way down the hall. _It's official, once again I have no family._


	60. Sixty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Another update today since I broke a personal best for reviews on the last chapter! Five people left them, (you know who you are) and you're awesome! Enjoy the extra update! :)

"So are our girlfriends fighting?"  Steve asked, frowning as he said that. "Oh God, that feels weird to say."

"Feels weird to hear," Bucky added, flopping down onto the couch. It was true enough, Melody was his girlfriend but hearing someone else say it aloud was strange. "And I don't know, they might just be clearing the air."

"Could it be both?"

"That seems the most likely possibility."  Steve looked sideways at him. "What?"

"You sort of sounded like Mel for a minute." 

Bucky laughed and stared at the ceiling. "Don't worry, I won't be practicing sutures anytime soon." Steve had shown up not long after Melody had left, white-faced and informing Bucky of what was going on, soon realizing her already knew and since then, they'd retreated to the living room, waiting things out. 

"Good, you'd probably screw it up." Steve sighed again. "You know, I can't get drunk and normally it doesn't bug me. Right now it bothers me."

"It's too early for drinking."

"Yeah, but I feel like crap." Steve answered, blowing out a long breath and staring blankly at the opposite wall. "Sharon...I've never seen her this sad, not even when Peggy died. This...this thing with Mel, it's hurting  her and I can't do anything about it."

"She's not angry?" Bucky asked. "This morning, when I overheard you two talking, she sounded pretty pissed." He'd already confessed his eavesdropping to Steve. Bucky was done keeping secrets from him. 

"Oh no, she's angry too. But more sad than anything. She feels like she failed, like she should've known before now." He sighed, "Worst part is, after she told me about what she did, hiding you like that. I was angry, I was so angry that I wanted something like this to happen. I wanted her to be lied to by someone she trusted and loved, I wanted her to know what it felt like. I got what I wanted. Doesn't feel as good as I thought it would."

Bucky titled his neck so he could look better at Steve. "You don't have to feel guilty about that. You're only human, you can't be perfect all the time."

"What sort of person wishes someone they love would be in pain?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve held himself to impossible standards. "Anyone who's human. No one is above being angry or irrational. Not even Captain America." For a moment, he felt like he'd made his point, but that moment vanished like butter in a hot pan half a second later. "Did you just say you're in love with Sharon?"

Steve's glum expression lighted. "Yeah, I guess I did. I love her." He said it with a little more force this time. 

"Have you told her?"

"No."

"Get a move on," he said instantly. "You took your sweet time just to kiss her, don't make the same mistake twice."

"Like you can talk. You can't tell me you didn't wait a while before kissing Mel the first time."

Bucky's face burned. "That was different, I didn't know how she felt about me. I thought I was just a patient. You had to know Sharon had a thing for you. People don't drink gallons of cheap coffee for just anyone."

"Hey, that was all I could afford."

"I'm not judging," he shrugged. "At least you took her out on a date."

"You didn't?"

Bucky gave him a blank look. "Think about what a date implies for a moment Steve."

"Oh," his friend's face turned a little red. "My bad. I just...you were always the one who was good with women. Charming, said all the right things, it's just hard to imagine you not being like that."

"I'm still charming," Bucky shot back, "don't kid yourself." 

Steve laughed. "Are we actually doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Almost every conversation you and I have had since, well everything, it's always been about some big, end of the world crap. It used to be Zemo, now it's about the fact that I'm a war criminal and we're trying to get Hydra out of your brain. And...Now we're not talking about that. We're talking about our relationships like normal people."

"Yeah," Bucky realized. "We are." He frowned, "It's weird, but I like it." He smiled, laughing softly to himself. "I never thought we would. Well, I knew we'd talk about whoever you got with eventually, but when I pictured that, I never thought I'd be in there too."

"Life has a way of surprising you."

"You're telling me."

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Mel okay? After everything she went through, with the shooting and, well whatever happened before that, is she okay? I've been worried about her, but I didn't know how to ask her. I mean, I'm not close with her and I didn't want to come off as a weirdo."

Bucky had a feeling Steve was holding back, he'd already heard from Melody that they had butted heads on the few occasions they'd tried to work together. Not that he was surprised, when it came to being stubborn and unwilling to walk away, both of them were forces to be reckoned with. The fact that those shared qualities would make them clash wasn't hard to imagine. "She's not okay Steve," he said softly. "She's very, very far from being okay."

"Is there anything," he started to say, but Steve was interrupted as the door opened and Melody came through it. Her face was pale, save the two spots of red high on her cheeks. Her eyes were watery, but no tears were spilling over. 

"Hey," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Steve, not that I'm unhappy to see you but," she breathed deeply, "would you mind leaving us for a while? Please?" She met Steve's gaze with eyes that didn't waver and with speed that still surprised Bucky, he was on his feet and across the floor in the span of two heartbeats. 

"Mel," he said with a brief nod in her direction as he passed. "If there is anything I can do for you-."

"Thank you, that's very kind," she said too fast to sound casual and Steve noticed it. He looked away from her and walked out the door without another word. Melody nodded, more to herself than anything and before Bucky could get on his feet, she was walking towards him and laid down on the couch, her head against his chest.

"What were  you and Steve talking about?" she asked.

Bucky sighed and ran his fingers over her hair. "Just how weird and surprising life is. And how he needs to stop holding himself up to impossible moral standards." 

She laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem for him. He seems like that type." Bucky felt a shudder run through Melody and winced. He wanted to say something, wanted to do anything that could stop the onslaught of painful emotions that were seconds from tearing her apart, but he couldn't. There was nothing he could say or do to stop it. "Like the kind of guy who thinks swearing is a mortal sin." She laughed, but the sound was broken, Bucky felt something warm and damp soak through his shirt, tears, he was sure of it but he didn't dare look at Melody now. He didn't want to be the one to send her over the edge.

"He does have a thing about coarse language," Bucky agreed, his chest tight as a tremor ran through Melody's body. She'd pressed herself so tightly against him that he could feel the motion without having his arm around her. 

"He's going back to Sharon."

It wasn't a question but he answered anyways. "Yeah. Probably."

"He's going to think you're crazy, you know that right?" Melody asked, her breath coming in short, hard bursts. "He's going to think you're crazy because you're dating a murderer. Because Sharon's going to tell him, she'll have to." A real sob burst out of her, her legs curling up to her chest with the pain of it and Bucky felt a bolt stab his heart. This was it. This was her breaking point and there was nothing he could do to save her.

"Melody," he said in a hoarse voice, hatred and frustration burning his throat as he searched for something to say to help her, words that didn't exist. 

Another sob. "She wouldn't even look at me. She told me to leave and she couldn't even _look_ at me." Her breath wheezed out of her chest, her entire body shaking as she clung to him, crying harder than ever.

"What can I do?" Bucky asked, trying to talk around the lump that was growing in his throat. It was a stupid question to ask. There was nothing he could do for her, nothing existed that could stop the pain she was feeling. "Is there anything I can do?" His question went unanswered as she wept, the sounding more like a wounded animal than a human being and Bucky's world blurred for a moment as well, tears burning his eyes. "Melody," he whispered holding her even tighter, "I am so sorry."


	61. Sixty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bonus update because I have no self control-enjoy! :)

Though the sun had barely started to rise, the morning air was already humid and sticky. It clung to Bucky like a second skin and made the lush, green garden he was standing in less of a pretty sight and more of a baking chamber that he couldn't wait to leave. Why he was out there was a simple matter; he was trying to get a flower for Melody. The last time she'd been in Wakanda, the gardens had enthralled her, her eyes had lit up seeing all the bright, tropical flowers and she'd used the word "beautiful" at least a hundred times that day. Bucky hoped seeing one of them again might bring about the same reaction.

He hoped it might be enough to get her to talk. Since talking with Sharon two weeks ago, she had stopped talking. All of her communication since that day (save when she'd told Bucky how Sharon reacted) had been strictly limited to shaking her head or shrugging. Since then, Bucky had tried everything he could to get her to talk again. With the help of Clint, he'd tracked down a few videos of surgeries and played them in the apartment, as he knew Melody loved watching them. However, when she saw the first one (a heart transplant) playing out on the screen, she'd merely shaken her head at Bucky and her eyes, which he was used to seeing so alight and excited over anything scientific where unfocused and far away. A few days later and Bucky had tried again, grabbing a suture kit and asking her to show him how to a baseball stitch, but she'd merely pushed the kit away with the tips of her fingers and shaken her head at him. She hadn't been to the sim at all either, not even after T'challa stopped by to inform her that he and his team had modified the system to try and replicate a mass causality situation. She hadn't even blinked when he'd told her that, she'd just stared out the window, silent and as far away from everyone else as she'd been since that day she spoke with Sharon. 

After that incident (as well as finding all of Melody's medical and science journals in the trash yesterday) Bucky had decided to change his approach which was why he was out in the gardens this early, his plan was get a flower for her and bring it back before she woke up. Maybe a change of pace would be enough to get a response out of her, not even words, just a smile would've been enough for now-she hadn't smiled since that day either and the loss was wearing on Bucky as well.He snapped off a bright orange flower, his heart heavy in his chest as he looked at it. It was the exact same one he'd tucked into her hair the last time he'd been here, she'd smiled at him then, happiness making her light up. It had made her happy then, but Bucky didn't have much hope it would bring out the same response again. Still, he was going to try. He needed to try. 

Bucky turned away from the planter, flower in hand and was about make his way towards the compound when he saw a familiar (and at the moment, unwelcome) face coming up the path. Sharon Carter. The agent was dressed for the day already, despite the early hour, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing a simple tank top and running shorts. An iPod (or at least that was what Bucky thought it was) was clipped onto the waistband of her shorts and navy blue earphones in her hand. Given the sheen of sweat on her face and the spots of red on her cheeks, he assumed she'd been out for a morning run.

Sharon stopped short as she saw him, apparently not expecting to see him either. However, she put on a brave smile. "Morning Bucky."

"Morning," he replied a bit stiffly, barely a credible attempt at politeness. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a good morning for a run," she said, tucking her earphones into her pocket and taking a step back from Bucky. "And apparently you don't share that view."

"It's been a long day."

"It's not even seven in the morning."

"Doesn't matter," it had been a long two weeks, two weeks of silence and watching the woman he loved drift farther and farther away even though she was never more than a short walk away. "Please move Agent Carter," Bucky said. "I need to get going." Sharon regarded him a moment and sighed, stepping aside just as he'd asked.  He moved around her, feeling his stomach twist as he did. Melody was broken and less than a foot from him was the very person responsible for it.  Sharon was the reason Melody's voice was gone, was the reason for the blank look in her eyes. 

He stopped walking, blood turning cold though the air was hot. "Sharon." He kept his back to her, knowing he'd bite her head off if he saw her face. "Did you ever love her? Melody, I mean."

"What kind of question is that?" Sharon asked, voice strange, sad and defensive at the same time. In his mind's eye, he saw her crossing her arms.  A standard position for a situation like this.

"I'm asking if you loved her," Bucky said, throat tight. "Because with what you did to her, I honestly can't tell."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Sharon's voice grew sharp and Bucky's temper snapped.

He spun around, jaw clenched and glared the agent. Just like he'd imagined, her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her face slightly red from her run getting darker with each second. "I would disagree Agent Carter," Bucky spat, blood roaring in his ears. "You stole federal files on me for Steve, you stole equipment from evidence-those are all crimes. You broke the law and when you were asked, you lied about it. That's wrong, isn't it? Or are you just a hypocrite?"

Bucky wasn't being specific but he didn't need to be, Sharon knew what he was talking about. "That is _not_ the same thing!" 

"But it is." Melody had done something illegal, but it hadn't been out of malice but desperation. She'd done something "wrong" and had spent every moment after trying to do good. Sharon had even witnessed some of them and yet she'd decided to forget. Decided not to care.

"No it's _not_." Sharon's voice was deathly quiet, her arms had lost their crossed position as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Be angry at me if you want, everyone picks sides in something like this, but don't you dare tell me what I've done and what she did are the same thing. They aren't."

"You've killed people too." Sharon was a federal agent and she'd been on some messy assignments before, Bucky already knew that much. She'd admitted it when asked. "Or have you forgotten?"

"Yeah, I have killed people. But I never plotted to do it. I had _seconds_ to act or a civilian, an agent or I would've wound up in a body bag. I never wanted to kill them but I had no other choice. It was heat of the moment, life or death and I _never_ lied about it either. I confessed, I accepted the consequences of my actions and I dealt with them. Melody didn't. She _lied_ , she lied for _years_ -."

"And given the reaction she's gotten, can you blame her? John deserved what he got, he was a monster who beat his wife and daughter, he didn't deserve to live."

Sharon scoffed, but it was strange, more like a laugh. "You know, I've heard that before. Eight years ago when Mel was operating on a serial killer."

Bucky's anger abated for a moment, stunned at the combination of words. "What?"

"Eight years ago, a prison inmate was brought to West Memorial, a serial killer. 'Back-alley Butcher' is what the press called him. He escaped the death penalty on the insanity defense but the other inmates didn't like him. One day they jumped him and he got hurt, needed surgery. Every other surgeon passed on it, all for the same reason: they didn't think he deserved to live. I agreed with them, frankly but Mel still took the case anyways. She saved his life and to this day, he's still alive in solitary."

"Is there a point to this?" Bucky growled. "I have places to be."

"She took the case and I didn't get it. I didn't get how she, being a member of society and a woman could save his life. So I asked her. I told her that he didn't deserve to live, know what she said?" Bucky didn't answer, but that was answer enough for Sharon. She glared at him with cold blue eyes. "She said; ' _it's not my job to decide that_ '. She told me she was a doctor, not an executioner." Sharon looked away from him, shoulders hunching like she was in pain. "I hunt down monsters, men who have _no_ regard for life and have no remorse about taking it as they see fit. And now I know Mel is like them."

"No she isn't." Sharon had it wrong. Melody had no remorse about taking John's life because she couldn't afford to. If she'd hesitated, even for a moment, John could've woken up and finished what he started. There was no room for remorse when it was like that. But everyone else, even a serial killer, she could bring herself to value, to save because that was her job. Her sworn duty. Scared as any oath Sharon had taken upon entering espionage. 

"I wish I could see it that way," Sharon replied, her breathing hard and Bucky had a strong feeling it had nothing to do with running. "But she's not sorry that she killed him, she's only sorry for what it might do to her."

"Why should she be sorry?" Bucky demanded, the flower he had been holding snapping in two. "You saw what he did to her-I heard you screamed. Bet that did wonders for her self-esteem."

She winced.  "I know he was a monster," she shot back. "I _know_ that. I have no illusions about what he was." Sharon closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. "But you can't kill another person, even a person who barely deserves the title and feel _nothing_. They're still human beings and whatever they are, you don't just get over it like it's nothing. It's _not_ nothing. Killing another human being is a hard thing to live with, no matter what, even if you know you had no choice or would do it over again the same way, But Mel doesn't feel that way, she doesn't care. There's nothing."  

"That's not true," Bucky said quietly, his earlier anger quieting down. So that was what she took issue with. "She can feel remorse Sharon, just not over a man like that. She's a smart, always has been. And that's why she killed him."

"How'd you make that leap?" Sharon asked quietly. "When you found out she'd plotted a successful murder before she turned thirteen?" 

"Because he almost killed her." Bucky said flatly and he watched as Sharon's face turned white. "There's a scar on her life side, shallow it's a stab wound. John stabbed her. Her lung collapsed and she couldn't breathe. That's what pushed her over the edge. She knew she couldn't keep going like that, sooner rather than later, she knew he'd go too far again and her luck would run out. Maybe it wasn't a heat of the moment situation, but it _was_ life and death and she was smart enough to know it. She took a path that ensured she'd live, she took her fate into her own hands because she learned to fear people. Her own mother wouldn't fight for her, how could she believe a stranger would?" 

Sharon didn't answer and Bucky turned away, shaking his head. For someone so smart, Sharon was pretty stupid. 

"And you say that you don't get to walk away after killing someone and you're right about that, but Melody didn't get to walk away. She became a doctor, she threw herself into saving lives to prove to herself that she wasn't like him. That she wasn't a monster. Don't you dare assume that she got to walk away from it, because she didn't." Bucky continued along the path, drained. There was nothing more he could say, nothing to convince Sharon that she wasn't seeing things clearly. That she needed to let go of her shock at everything. At the shooting, the scars, Melody's vanishing act and the truth that had come after it. She needed to see that those things were small in comparison to everything else, to Melody and the relationship they shared. 

Bucky made it several feet, his footsteps loud on the gravel path. "Is she okay?" the agent called after him. "Steve told me she hasn't said much since...since she and I saw each other."

"She hasn't said anything," Bucky corrected as he hung his head, stopping cold and heart sinking in his chest once again. "No matter what I've tried, she won't talk to me."

"She won't talk about me?"

"No, she won't talk, period."

"What?"

"She's in pain," Bucky said. It was the only explanation he had. He'd heard her howl like a wounded animal after recounting Sharon's reaction to the truth about her past, but after that initial aftermath, the pain she was feeling had heightened somehow, traumatizing enough to rob her of speech. "And I've seen her in pain before Sharon, but it's never been this bad. She's a survivor, she's lived through hell, but you, you're what broke her."

"I didn't-."

"You broke her, Sharon and whether or not you meant to do that is irrelevant." Bucky shook his head and continued walking away, disgust and sorrow mixing in his stomach. Sharon was supposed to be smart, but her inability to see sense about this was unbearably stupid. Yes, Melody had plotted to kill John, succeeded and lied about it for almost two decades and yes, it was technically a bad thing. But sometimes, a person had to do a little bad to achieve a lot of good. Melody had killed one person, taken one life but it had been to save her own. Since then, for seventeen years, she'd devoted her hard-won life to serving others. To saving life and Sharon couldn't see it.

Bucky walked through the garden, the sun hanging up in the fierce blue sky, heart twisting in his chest. He wished this was situation where someone's inability to see sense was just their problem, but this wasn't one of those times. Sharon's lack of understanding affected Melody and did so in a way that ripping her apart. He picked another flower as he went, looking at the sky again, he needed to get back, Melody would be awake soon.


	62. Sixty-Two

When Bucky made it back to the apartment, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. His guess had been a toss up between Melody still being fast asleep or her sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, miles away from him even though she was close enough to touch. However, as he entered the apartment, he'd been wrong on both counts.

Melody was awake and though she was perched on the couch, legs drawn up to her chest and staring at the wall, the look on her face wasn't blank, it was pained. Silent tears were streaming down her face.

The apprehension and anger he'd felt since leaving Sharon in the garden drained completely from Bucky and he shut the door behind him and half-ran towards Melody who'd jumped at the sudden noise. "What's wrong?" he demanded, dropping the flower he'd collected for her onto the coffee table and cupping her face in his hand. "Are you hurt?" All he'd been thinking about since waking up this morning was getting her to talk, but right now, seeing the clear signs of hurt on her face, that wasn't important. Right now, all he needed was a yes or a no answer. "Melody, are you hurt? I need you to answer me."

Melody made a sort of choking sound and buried her face against her knees. "You were gone."

Bucky's jaw dropped. "You just talked!"

"I woke up and you were gone," her voice was hoarse from lack of use, but even so, he could just barely hear the soft undertones that hinted at the singing voice she didn't often share. "You were gone."

"I-I was just outside, I went to the gardens to get this for you," he held up the flower, scarcely able to speak as he stared at Melody. Two weeks of silence and now, finally, she'd said something. He'd come back inside hoping to just get one word, and now he'd gotten thirteen, three of which were merely repeated words but he didn't care. The joy of hearing her voice again made that impossible. It didn't matter what she said, she could've been yelling and cursing like a navy sailor and Bucky wouldn't have cared. Hearing it would've been a blessing.

Melody looked up, tilting her head at the dark blue flower. "What is this?"

"No idea," Bucky said, a wide smile stretching across his face as he offered it to her. "I just thought it was pretty."

She took the flower from him and tentatively ran her fingertips over the petals. "It is." Fifteen words. Bucky's grin, if possible grew even larger and he had no doubt he face was going to start aching soon if he kept this up, but he didn't care about that either. She was talking, Melody was finally talking. 

"I should've told you where I was going," he said, realizing he'd scared her, but being silently thankful he'd kept the morning outing to himself. While Bucky took no pleasure in causing her pain, he was too happy about her talking to truly regret scaring her. "I should've realized you'd think I was in the lab. I'm sorry." He reached out and tucked some hair behind her ear, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," she said, standing up, the flower still held delicately in her hand. "Is there a vase anywhere around here? I'd like to put this in some water."

Bucky tried to keep his face composed but the fact that he was getting so many complete sentences and even questions from Melody made that hard. "I don't think we do, but if you cut the stem down enough a regular glass should work just as well."

"Okay," she turned towards the kitchen and though Bucky knew he didn't need to, he got up as well. He didn't know if this would last and he didn't want to miss anything. 

There was a snick as the blades of a scissors cut through the green stem and thanks to his height, Bucky beat Melody to the cupboard and handed her a tall glass. He held his breath, waiting and a warm sense of hope beating in his chest. And for the first time in two weeks, it wasn't crushed.

"Thanks," she took the glass from him and turned on the faucet and filled the glass halfway with water and then set the flower inside where it bobbed for a second or two before settling against the side. 

"You're welcome," Bucky replied, leaning against the counter, still smiling at her. She wasn't looking at him, her eyes were trained on the flower and for the first time in so long, they weren't blank. There was life flickering in the green colors now, not the stubborn fire Bucky had seen when she was fighting to help someone who wanted to be stubborn, nor the sharp gleam of intelligence he'd seen while she worked but still, it was life. Something alive and aware was back again and the sight made him ridiculously happy. Bucky had thought once, nearly three months ago when she'd broken up with him, that nothing would ever be more painful than that. But now, he knew he was wrong. Being separated by thousands of miles and a complex situation hurt, but it wasn't the most painful separation. Not by any means. The most painful separation from her had been over the course of the last two weeks, when she was right next to him, close enough to hold and to touch and yet she was so, so far away from him. That was the worst and now, that distance was starting to close. A heavy weight dropped into Bucky's stomach thinking about what it would be like if he had to experience that distance again. 

"You're staring at me," Melody informed him pointedly, looking away from the flower and meeting his eye. "Please stop."

"I can't help it," Bucky replied, touching her face which was covered with drying tears. "You're beautiful..." His throat grew tight, "And I've missed you, a lot." Melody's face blurred for a second and he shook his head, trying to regain a handle on the sudden flood of emotions sweeping through him.

"James," Melody took a step forward, her fingers brushing against his face. The contact was gentle, a gesture of comfort rather than passion but it still sent an electric shock through Bucky. She hadn't touched him like that in ages. Tears were brimming in her eyes now as well. "I'm so sorry." And she closed the distance between them, her mouth on his, her lips were dry and cracked and the contact was brief, but it didn't matter, the gesture sent warmth through his entire body. All the anxiety, the fear and every other negative emotion that he'd been feeling since Melody fell apart in his arms two weeks ago was washed away. It didn't matter anymore.

She broke away, but she didn't let go. Her arms wound around him and Melody pressed her face into his chest. "Please, don't leave me."

"What?" Bucky shook his head, holding her against him as he rested his head in her crook of her shoulder. The angle was a bit uncomfortable, but it didn't bother him to much. It was a small price to pay if it meant he got to hold her again. "Who said I was leaving? It certainly wasn't me, maybe you just heard a ghost talking."

She didn't laugh. "You were gone this morning,"  she said. "I thought you left me."

"Melody," he whispered. "Two things, one, I can't leave this compound without getting arrested and secondly," he pressed a kiss against her throat. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Melody whimpered and held tightly to him. Bucky could feel her tears dampening the front of his shirt. "Sharon loved me once, but she's gone. Derrick loved me too and decided to leave me the first time. People don't stay with me, they leave."

 _I knew that guy was an idiot_ , Bucky thought, recalling an image of a faceless man in dark blue scrubs. He'd had a chance with Melody and he'd hurt her instead of realizing how damn lucky he was. "I'm not Derrick," he said, pulling away so he could look at her tear-streaked face. "I'm not surgeon but I'm smart enough to know what I have here and I'm _not_ going to let you go. I love you. Melody, I will never leave. Not unless you tell me to go." He sighed and pulled her close again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And Sharon, I don't think you've lost her."

"You didn't see her face," Melody whimpered. "She hates me, I disgust her."

"I didn't see her face," he agreed, "but I did talk with her today. Long and short of it, she's freaked out, about everything but she doesn't hate you. She asked if you were okay. If she hated you, she wouldn't have." Bucky was still angry with the agent and the pain she'd caused Melody but he wasn't so irrational that he failed to realize that Sharon Carter still had to care about Melody. She wouldn't have been so upset to hear that Melody had been broken. It hadn't been guilt in her objection, not on it's own, there had been sorrow as well. 

"What'd you tell her?"

"The truth."

"And how'd she take it?"

"Not that well, but I didn't stick around to get details." He slackened his grip and looked down at Melody. "Hey, look at me." She obliged and Bucky smiled at her. "Sharon hasn't left you, she just needs space. This has been a lot for her to take in and she needs time to process it and breathe. She needs to do that away from you for a bit, but that doesn't mean she's gone." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Be patient."

"I want to believe that."

"I know," he said, holding her to him again. "I know you and if you need me, I'll be here. I'm not going to leave you." He'd promised her that already, but as she seemed to be so fearful of it now, he wanted to tell her again. 

"Promise?"

Bucky's mind moved once again to the ring hidden in his nightstand. Probably wasn't the best place to hide it anymore now that Melody had taken up residence in the apartment again. But then again, Melody never really noticed things like that-she'd failed to notice he was in love with her until he said it to her face, maybe he had nothing to worry about. "I promise."

Melody shifted in his grasp and Bucky felt her lips brush his cheek. Smiling he turned his head and kissed her back, the same warmth sweeping through him again. "I love you," she said as they broke apart.

"I know," he said, winking as he quoted _Star Wars_ at her. Sure enough, she recognized it and smiled at him.

"Did we ever finish that series or not?"

"No."

"You want to? If you're not busy that is."

Bucky grinned. "Great idea."


	63. Sixty-Three

Later that night, long after Melody had broken her silence and James had finally seen how the original Star Wars tribology ended, they were just talking, curled up together on the couch. The TV in front of them was off at James's insistence, all he wanted to do was talk. Or rather, he wanted to listen while she spoke.

And so she did. Melody laid against James, her head resting on his chest, chattering on and on about whatever came to mind. Right now she was talking about _Star Wars._ "I hate the prequels," she admitted. "Too much special effects and not enough plot. And do _not_ get me started on the dialogue. I'll still watch them with you though, just so I can see your face when you realize that I wasn't exaggerating." She smiled at him, snuggling more firmly against his chest. His hard muscles firm against her, the smell and heat of his skin enveloping her in comfort and familiarity. 

"I'd like that," James said, an identical grin of his own playing over his lips. 

"Of course, after that there are some other things I want you to see, like _Titanic_."

"I know what that is," he said, smirking at her. "I'm not _that_ old."

"No! I mean the James Cameron movie. It was made in the nineties." _Sort of like your haircut,_ she thought, but Melody didn't mind. The grunge look suited him. "I cry every time I watch it, fair warning."

"Is it a sad movie?"

"Look at the title, how can a movie about that be happy?"

James rolled his eyes. "Fine, you have a point but why would you cry if you already know how it ends?"

"That's something you'll have to see when you watch it with me. I'm just warning you in advance about the crying thing so you don't freak out." Melody laughed. "Oh and I'll probably want to cuddle at some point when that happens, just so you know."

"I am okay with that." His arm tightened around her shoulders as he spoke. "Feel free to do that anytime you want."

Melody grinned, wrapping her arms firmly around him. "You are _so_ going to regret saying that." 

"What's there to regret?" he asked, his hand sliding between her back and the couch. "You get what you want and I have a beautiful woman in my arms-or rather my arm." James grinned at his amputee joke. He made them a lot, which made Melody think he was more insecure about his missing limb than he let on. "It's a win-win situation."

She leaned into him, smiling to herself. "Glad we both benefit." Melody shifted her right arm, letting her hand rest on James's chest, the muscle hard and lean under her fingers, even through his shirt. She let her hand slide down his chest, slowly and she felt him tense at the gesture.

"And what," he asked as she hooked her fingers under hem of his shirt, "do you think you're doing?"

"Can't you guess?" She teased, sliding her both hands along his sides, the feeling of his lean torso hands her hands sending a thrill through her. 

"I'd say you're trying to take off my clothes."

"Well just your shirt at the moment." Melody grinned and pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it to the ground. She eyed his muscular chest, rising and falling with every breath he took. Even though James was the assassin, his skin was not marked with that many scars. An entire band of them circled his left shoulder joint, but other than that there was no real physical indication of what his past had been like. Of course, all the damage had really been done to his mind. 

But that didn't mean the present wasn't capable of leaving it's share of wounds. Across his chest, fading but still visible were yellowing bruises. The pattern wasn't hard for Melody to place. "This is from the lab, isn't it?" she asked, grazing her fingers over first line of bruises across his chest. "When they tied you down?"

"Yeah, it is, but don't be mad at them. I'm dangerous when I'm like that, they have to restrain me."

"I'm not mad." Melody leaned closer to him, wrapping one arm around his lower back and kissed his chest. She wasn't angry, not at the team in the lab. They were only trying to help. Her anger was directed at Hydra and every son of a bitch that had made this necessary to start with. 

"Melody?" James asked as she broke away, his voice rougher than usual, but she didn't reply. She let her both her arms wind around him again, trailing kisses over the remains of his left shoulder. She knew he couldn't feel it, but she knew firsthand it wasn't always about how a gesture felt, _physically_. Sometimes the emotional impact was more important. She had never asked how James felt about losing his arm, but she did know how the thing itself had made him feel. She remembered it well; how he'd told her his suspicion that Hydra had designed the prosthetic the way they had (with little sense of feeling) to make him less human. Whether he believed it worked she didn't know, but Melody knew where she stood and she wanted to be sure that James knew it. The tangy flavor of metal gave way to the warmth of his skin, the tissue rough and scarred but again changing and reverting to smooth as she trailed over his collar bone and up his throat. 

"Melody," he moaned, his arm drawing around her, pressing her more firmly against him. "The door-."

"It's locked," she replied, breaking away enough to get the words out. Routine things were easy to forget, but Melody had seen James lock the apartment door behind him upon his return. "We're alright."

"Great," James's grinned against her kiss and Melody felt the smile mirror on her own face as she dragged her fingers up his back, nails scratching against his skin before she tangled her hands into his hair, drawing him closer still, but it wasn't enough. The need to be closer, to be as close as humanly possible was nagging at her every nerve, insistent and impossible to ignore. Good thing she had no plans for that.

"We should move," she gasped as James lips left her mouth and began trailing down her throat.

"Nah." His fingers twisted into the hem of her shirt and yanked it upwards, but the move wasn't that effective with only one hand. The right side flew up, but the left remained down across her lower back and effectively trapped Melody inside.

"Here," she laughed as she shifted her arms and grabbed a handful of fabric. With one less than graceful motion, she pulled it off and tossed it onto the floor. 

"Button down's are way easier remove with one hand," James commented, but before Melody could reassure him that she wasn't bothered by the difficulty his arm tightened over her waist and her world turned sideways. In that same motion, James's was straddling her waist, his weight pressing her even farther down onto the couch.

He grinned at her, the look arrogant. "Pretty sneaky huh?"

"Shut up." Melody rolled her eyes. She had once accused James of not being very sneaky for an assassin and it seemed that he was never going to let her live that down. 

"Anything for you," James teased, brushing a kiss across her lips and then shifting to kiss her throat and then her shoulder, his fingers sliding down her exposed torso as he did. His touch was feather-light, careful but those things did nothing to diminish their impact. Every kiss, every brush of his fingers over her skin was a ripple effect. Desire, burning and insistent radiating from every point of contact and spread to the rest of her body. Her stomach were anticipation fluttered in her stomach, her legs which curled against James without direction, just needing to feel him against her. Needing to be closer.

Which, Melody realized, would be easier to accomplish if she had a little more room to move. The couch was small, even compared to the one in her former apartment and the fact left it hard for her to move as she wanted. "Don't you think-oh!" Her bra came undone in the back and she felt James grin against her skin as he grabbed the garment with his teeth, dragging the first strap down over her right arm.

"You were saying?" he asked, dropping the strap from his teeth and trailing a kiss over her newly exposed chest. 

"I-I was saying," she managed, gasping as his tongue traced over the sensitive skin. "We should move, to bed."

"I'd rather not," he said,grabbing the garment in  his teeth again, nipping against her skin as he dragged the other half of off her body.

"Why-oh God." Melody arched against him as he ripped it off her entirely with a quick jerk of his head, his shaggy hair falling slightly into his face. "Impatient?" Admittedly she would've preferred to form a more coherent thought, but James was robbing her of that ability at the present. He had that sort of effect on her.

"Oh no," he smirked, lifting his head to look at her. "I'm not impatient," he walked his fingers up  her side, slowly tracing the curve of her left breast."In fact, I'm hell bent on taking this slowly." 

A shiver ran through Melody hearing that. "Then what's the problem?"

"Not a problem," James replied, still wearing that smirk as he squeezed, the gesture sent a bolt of need through Melody and an involuntary moan escaped between her teeth. He leaned down towards her, his mouth brushing her ear and his voice ragged."It's more of a goal."

"Goal?" she repeated, feeling dizzy as James pressed a kiss against her jaw. 

"Besides hearing you scream my name," he teased, leaving another kiss against her neck, right where her pulse could be felt. No doubt he could feel it leaping sharply upwards as his hand trailed away from her chest and down towards her belly. Melody was certainly aware of it. "I also have something else I want-to make love to you in every room in this place." She felt him smile against her skin. "I've already knocked the bathroom and our bedroom off the list. Living room is next."

"James," Melody laughed as his fingers grazed over a spot on her stomach, just below her belly button that was absurdly ticklish. 

"I'm serious," he murmured against her throat. "I want to love you everywhere in this apartment."

"Not that! I'm ticklish!" she squealed as he touched the spot again. "Stop it!"

"Oh, sorry." James laughed, "My bad." His hand moved lower, towards the waistband of her shorts. 

"You're not sorry."

"Very true," he agreed brightly. "I love your laugh." His fingers hooked on the elastic and began to drag them down.

"James," she whispered, lifting her hips to help him undress her. This was something he could without much help from her, slower sure, but it didn't matter. They had time. But Melody wondered just how long she could wait. Liquid heat was pooling low inside her, throbbing and each moment that passed just made it stronger. His hand dragging her clothing from her body, his chest pressed against her side-it was starting to overwhelm everything else around them. Her world was shrinking to include only James. Everything else didn't matter- _rip_.

Melody gasped as cool air rushed against her heated skin and her hands clawed against James's as she realized what he'd done. He hadn't taken off her shorts in a traditional sense, he'd ripped them off her body. "What happened to taking it slow?" she laughed as she shifted, wrapping her leg around his waist to draw him closer. 

"I'm only human," he replied, hitching her leg farther onto his hip, driving them closer to together and again, it still wasn't enough for Melody. She _needed_ him to be closer. James's head dipped forwards, his face hovering over hers, a smile gracing his mouth. With a slow motion, he bent his head, capturing her lips in a soft kiss, gentle though it was it only increased the need that was burning through every cell in her body.

"James," she moaned, moving her hips against him, hoping to drive him over the edge. Already, she knew despite how he held back, he was feeling the same as she was-anatomy didn't lie. Laying his close to him, Melody could feel the hard evidence of his own desires against her. If she played her cards right, he wouldn't be patient much longer. "James, make love to me." His hold on her loosened and he drew away, Melody was about to protest but as she heard the metallic hiss of a zipper being undone her protests died in her throat and she sat up, or rather she tried to, the cramped couch and James's weight over her made the action a bit difficult.

"Be patient," James chided, laughing as he slid the clothing down over his hips. "We have all day."

 _Yeah,_ Melody agreed in her mind. _We do._ They had all the day to be together, but as James kicked off the remainder of his clothing, she knew this was just a start. One day in a series of many that they had before them now that her life in New York was gone. Days she wouldn't have had, provided that Anthony Doyle hadn't put those bullets through her chest.

 _I never thought I'd be thankful for getting shot_ , she found herself thinking as James moved to kiss her again _. But I am._ But Melody didn't have much time to dwell on the thought, James's tongue was parting her mouth, tasting her and damn, she wanted to do the same thing herself. She hadn't been kissed like this in months, not since leaving Wakanda and she'd missed it terribly. She'd think later, right now she had to make up for lost time.


	64. Sixty-Four

The couch was small and cramped, but even so Bucky was pretty comfortable; Melody's trembling body pressed up against his was merely a different form of comfort. He leaned against her chest, smiling as he brushed a kiss across her sternum which made her gasp.

"James," she whispered, voice breathless as she tangled her fingers in his hair. "I know you're a super solider, but I am nowhere near ready to-."

"I'm still human," he interrupted, laughing softly. "I just like kissing you." He repeated the gesture again and was rewarded with another gasp and her fingers curled involuntarily into his hair and Bucky grimaced as the sharp pain. "Ow."

"Sorry!"

"It's fine," he laughed. Bucky sighed and let his hand trace up her side. "I missed this."

"You missed me pulling your hair?" Melody teased, reaching over to touch his face, running her fingers over his cheek. "I've missed this too." She leaned into him, pressing closer and their lips met. This kiss wasn't fevered like the ones they'd shared a few minutes before, but Bucky enjoyed them just as much. Sex was great and he'd never deny that, but he liked the aftermath too. Just laying next to each other, talking and laughing was priceless- life on the run had taught him that. These were some of the things he'd missed the most when they were apart.

Bucky broke away and let his head rest against her chest. "It's good to hear your voice again." Her voice was music to his ears. 

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, her voice soft. "I wouldn't blame you-."

"No," he said instantly, cutting her off.  "I'm not mad. I understand why you did what you did. The past three months have been hard on you, sooner or later something had to give." Melody had the extraordinary (and also frightening) ability to block out bad things and repress them, but even so, that repression couldn't bury things forever. Sooner or later, it all came bubbling back to the surface. And usually, it all came back at once and created a mess of overwhelming emotions. "I'm just happy you're back." He nuzzled her shoulder to further his point and Melody laughed.

"Why are you so good to me?"

"I love you," he replied, kissing her lips, smiling as he did so. It had been so long since they'd kissed. Well, if he didn't count the last half hour.  "Sort of goes with the territory." 

Melody sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. "I am sorry, about everything. I just...I've never had a ten like that."

"A ten?" Bucky repeated. 

Melody's hand fell from his hair and curled around his face. "We ask patients to rate the pain their in on a scale from one to ten, ten being the worst possible. When I last saw Sharon, when I saw her face...That was my ten. And given my ridiculously high pain threshold, that is saying something."

"I guess they don't make pain-killers to help with that," he commented. Now that Melody was speaking again, he was able to think back on Agent Carter's words in the garden with more clarity than he had at the time. As much as her actions had hurt Melody, they weren't evil. They were valid. The sudden influx of information, that Melody had been lying for years, that she placed a high value on life, even enough to save a murderer and yet had been able to kill and do so without any remorse-that was a lot to process in a small amount of time. A lot of pain inflicted by someone she loved, whether said loved one had wanted to do it or not.

"No, they don't," Melody interrupted his thoughts, stroking his hair. "I've only ever had three things that meant something to me and two of them are gone." She ran her fingers down his cheek. "Don't leave me. Please."

"Not going anywhere," Bucky promised. He'd made this same one at least twice already today, but he didn't care. He'd assure her he was there to stay until she believed him. "I'm not going to leave you. Not unless I have to." He added that last bit in a much softer voice. He was sick and tired of saying goodbye to her, but he wasn't stupid either. If his presence in her life created more danger than was tolerable, he was going to make the same choice he made over two years ago. 

"If that happens, I'll find a way to live with it," Melody said after a moment, still touching his face. "And when it's clear, I'm going to find you again. I'm done with long-term goodbyes."

Bucky smiled and turned his head, kissing her hand. "Glad we agree on that. I hate those."

"I hate them were a few things are concerned, but sometimes they're for the better." Something flashed in Melody's eyes and Bucky knew instantly what it was.

"Moira doesn't know where you are either, does she?" In fact, as far as Bucky was aware from his infrequent watching or reading of news coverage, officially, Melody was still missing. 

"That's correct. I did send her a letter before I left, telling her I was alive, but that's about it."

"You sent her a letter?" Bucky asked, tilting his head questioningly at her. "Why?" She'd avoided contact with her mother for the better part of two decades. Why she'd suddenly change that was a mystery to him. 

"At the hospital, after I was shot," she began, toying with a lock of his hair. "She _did_ seem different." She sighed and let her hand fall from him. "I got pretty vocal with her and normally, when I was a kid, she just cowered in the face of anything like that, but this time, she didn't. She stood her ground. She didn't smell like a liquor store either."

Bucky frowned. "Um, that's good?"

"I don't know how to feel about it. If she's different now, if she really is a better person now, then good for her but..."

"There's too much there," Bucky finished. "Too much hurt to heal from."

"Exactly, but I thought, at least she deserved to know I wasn't laying in the hospital morgue."

"You did give it your best effort," he noted dryly, eyes dropping from her face to the two new scars in her chest. They were much smaller than the others, but that was also what made them stand out. Two small circles, about the size of a coin, inches from each other, one just touching the place where her heart was beating. Bucky let his fingers trail over her body, touching the scars tenderly. Something so small and yet done so much damage. 

"James," she whispered, but Bucky didn't respond to her. Though she'd gotten over the worst of it, Melody was still in pain and he knew it. There wasn't enough morphine in the world to ease it, but thankfully, there was something for it and he could provide it.

"I won't leave you," he promised her again, leading into his next point. "And frankly, Sharon hasn't left either. She's still here, she still cares about you and that's not changing anytime soon."

"James-."

"I'm not finished," he informed her, grinning smugly as Melody quieted down. "I already told you that I talked to her today and then, I was pissed off at her. I blamed her for you...shutting down like you have been." He winced against his will and saw sympathy and regret flicker across Melody's face. "She talked to me a bit about what's bothering her, she told me about the Back-alley Butcher."

Melody's dark green eyes widened. "I remember that. He cut up three women."

"She told me she didn't know why you agreed to save him and she told me that you said you were a doctor, not an executioner."

"I remember," Melody said softly. "It's probably why she hates me now. I lied to her."

"No you didn't," Bucky informed her. "You are a doctor. You value life and Sharon knows that, she has to, underneath everything or she would have left this place already."

"Or arrested me."

"She won't do that," he disagreed. "What can she do? Bring a SWAT team here? They'd have to arrest Steve, Sam and everyone else here if she tried. And I don't think she'd want to anyways, like I said, she asked if you were okay. She still cares about you." He wanted to assure Melody that she still had the love of her friend, but he couldn't go that far. He wasn't Wanda, he couldn't read minds and love was something not to be tossed around lightly; it was too important for that. But he knew Sharon still cared, her concern said that much.

"You have no idea how badly I want to believe you."

"Give her time," he repeated the same advice he'd given her this morning. It probably wasn't going to make her feel better but it was still solid advice. "She'll come around, I'm sure of it." He leaned down, pressing a kiss across the bullet wounds in her chest. " _This_ is who you are," he whispered against her skin, feeling her tremble. "You stood in front of a gun to save a kid, you could have died and you almost did. _That's_ who you are. Someone who will do everything to she can to save someone else's life. That's who you are, that is your legacy and that's what makes you a great surgeon." Bucky shifted again, leaving a kiss on her collar and he smiled as she trembled again. "You keep saying you lost what mattered to you, but you haven't. You're an excellent surgeon, any hospital would be lucky to have you on staff."

"Who will hire me if the truth gets out? About what I did?"

"Maybe it doesn't have to." 

"What?" 

"Maybe the real story doesn't have to get out," Bucky repeated, lifting his head up to look at her. The idea had only just dawned on him now, but it seemed like a good solution to him. He only hoped Melody would agree. 

"They are never going to believe he just offed himself," Melody retorted, shaking her head slightly. "Not anymore. There's motive to kill him now." 

"Yeah, the time for that story has passed," he smirked a little. "But that doesn't mean everyone has to know the truth. Just the people who matter." He smiled at Melody for real this time. "I can take the credit."

She frowned at him and sat upright, no longer relaxed, but rigid and alert. "What?"

"Hydra had me go after powerful people," he explained. "Sometimes because they were threats, others just to show that it could be done. My orders were usually to make it look like an accident or something like it. Suicide fits under that umbrella."

"Yeah, it does but you can't do that."

"Why not?" he shrugged. "My kill list is pretty long, what's one more name?" 

"I was a key witness," she disagreed. "I had evidence all over me when the police showed up. You can't pass that off as Hydra."

"Did Moira know where you were that night?" Bucky doubted it, from what he knew of her, she was probably deep into a wine bottle by that time. 

"What?"

"Did Moira know where you were that night?" he asked again. He needed to know this if he wanted the story to fit.

"No. She was passed out on the couch, too much Merlot."

"Then who's to say you weren't hiding upstairs, afraid to move and wake up John? That is, until you saw a strange man in your house. Trust me, the place has a lot of entry points, it wouldn't have been that hard to get into the place without using the front door." It had been one of the first things Bucky noticed about the place.

"Fine," she allowed, "say that works. How does that account for the fact that I'm still alive? Hydra didn't allow you to leave witnesses." Her eyes gleamed sharply. "And there's no way you wouldn't have noticed me at some point, _no one_ will believe that."

"Maybe I knew you wouldn't say anything, maybe you thanked me for saving you." Bucky pressed. "And...Well, I wasn't completely thoughtless when I was like that." He hung his head, shame burning his insides. "I could think, use my ingenuity to carry out the mission. I think it can be argued that I would have recognized that you weren't afraid of me, that you were relived to see him dead. Maybe the strain opened up this," he tapped his finger over the stab in her side, "maybe I realized what he was."

"Far as anyone knows you had no empathy in that time," she replied. "Why would you have cared?"

"It wasn't caring," he answered. "I just knew I'd have a witness to further the story I had to tell." Bucky curled his hand around Melody's face. "This could work, you _have_ to see that. The only thing you'd be guilty of would be withholding information, but given how young you were, what I was and what John was too, well I can't see any formal charges being pressed. You'd have a clean record."

"On paper."

"John was a bastard that beat on his wife and daughter," Bucky said flatly. "I can't imagine anyone in the population trying to defend him. And I'm an assassin with over two dozen confirmed kills-that scares grown men, what's it supposed to do to a twelve year old girl?" He traced the curve of her cheek. "Melody, please. There's a hell of a lot I can't protect you from, but I _can_ protect you from this. Let me, please."

She didn't say anything for a moment, but her eyes were shining. "James-."

"He's one more name," he insisted. "One more person in a list that's too long, credit for his death isn't going to hurt me any. It's nothing. Please-."

His words cut off short as Melody's mouth crushed his own. Her hands knotted into his hair, drawing him down onto her and pressing their bodies together in a way that made his blood burn. "Melody," he moaned, breaking away from her heated kiss long enough to talk. "Please let me."

"I'm not arguing," she said back, breathless. "I'm saying thank you."

"Don't thank me."

"What else can I do?" she asked, holding his face in her hands, tears in her eyes and a wide, brilliant smile on her face. Bucky had never seen it before, but it took his breath away. "You're trying to give me back my life."

Bucky shrugged and grinned at her. "A great surgeon shouldn't be kept from an OR." He had no doubt that if Melody was kept away from her job, there would be more people who died. Not everyone could do what she did and not even those who were capable of performing surgery were her equal. Melody needed to be a surgeon, not just for herself, but for others who would one day need her help. "You don't need to thank me for that."

"But I want to," she replied, leaning in to kiss him again, her hands trailing down his body, slowly, tantalizing and obvious in their intent.

"Well," Bucky said, trembling. "I think I can let you."

Melody grinned against his mouth. "Great."


	65. Sixty-Five

"I'm glad you're feeling better," T'challa said kindly as he and Melody strolled down to the lab. The hour was early, the sky outside grey and the jungle still no more than a dark tangle of trees and plants below them. "I was very pleased to get your call," the young king continued. "But I must ask, why did you want to meet so early?"

"James is going to be back in the lab today," she answered, blowing a stray bit of hair away from her face. "He doesn't like me around when that happens."

"I imagine the last time you were present was hard on him," he commented and Melody nodded. "It must have frightened you as well."

"Not really." The initial process of events hadn't scared her, but the fear had come later. That was her specialty. 

"No? I suppose you've seen more frightening things?"

"Yes." She'd done more frightening things herself, but she wasn't going to tell T'challa that. He could get the public story, same as everyone else. As far as he knew, the Winter Solider had been behind John's death. Sharon knew the truth and so did James, they were the only ones who mattered enough to warrant being in the know.

"I suppose it distracts him, thinking you might get hurt. He's quite protective of you."

Melody felt a grin flicker on her face. That was an understatement considering the lie he was prepared to tell for her. "So, what changes have you made to the sim again? What situation have you tried to create?"

"A bus crash," T'challa replied with a bit of a smirk. "Seemed fitting." 

Melody rolled her eyes. "Am I wrong in guessing you took inspiration from real life?" The day T'challa had taken her on a tour of Wakanda's capitol city and the tourist outing had been cut short when they'd witnessed a semi-truck T-boning a bus and knocking the vehicle onto it's side. 

"Of course," he replied, winking. "We want them to be as real as possible. Better for training isn't it Doctor?"

"Mel," she corrected. "And yes, it would be." They entered the lab, the place empty, the stainless steel surfaces and glass computer screens glinting in the bright lighting. "And that's were I come in isn't it? You want my seal of approval?"

"I'd like it very much." T'challa stepped into the sim, the blank white room empty and Melody stepped inside as well, touching the small button to close the door behind them. Oddly enough, the walls were not the clear glass they were when the sim was not running. They were pixelated, half-images of city buildings and stretches of roads behind them.

"Is it broken?" she asked, frowning at the half-formed bus to her left. The parts that were visible looked real, the glass glittering at her feet and looking wickedly sharp and human bodies twisted at odd angles, some moving and moaning while others were still. "The sim?"

"No."

"Bug in the coding?"

"No," T'challa tucked his hands into the pocket of his khaki shorts. "This program is just more complex than anything we've created here before. More bodies, more individual problems in each, more debris and the like. Takes longer to set up."

"How long?" Melody asked as the gaps of grey began to cover completely with roads, sidewalks, twisted metal and other accompanying sights she'd seen before, both in person and on screens.

"About three hours," T'challa said, frowning as the simulation came together. "Not as fast as we'd like, but at the moment we are more concerned with functionally at the moment."

"Is the speed like this for each portion?" Melody asked, kneeling down to study one of the bodies nearest her. The man's face was swollen, his nose and jaw clearly broken. She lifted his shirt, the material peeling away from his abdomen, too lightweight to be real cloth, though the motion looked very real.  His abdomen was free of cuts, but that didn't mean injuries were impossible. She prodded the flesh with the tips of her fingers and the sim moaned in response, the voice robotic as ever.

"Ow," it said and Melody looked down at the fake man. 

"Does it hurt when I do this?" she asked, prodding the upper left portion of his stomach and the sim told her yes. "Do you have any pain in your left shoulder?" And again it told her yes. So far, this was simulating a ruptured spleen and doing so very well. It was exhibiting the typical symptoms. "I think you've possibly ruptured your spleen." She looked over at T'challa. "What sort of spleen injury does he have? Is it only programed to stay within the splenic capsule or is it going out into his stomach?"

"Capsule," he replied. 

"He'd be a red tag then," she muttered more to herself than T'challa.  Bleeding with in the capsule was contained, buying time, but if it broke it wouldn't take long to bleed to death. "What about this one?" she pointed to a woman who was curled up several feet away, her tibia poking clean through her leg, a gory, bloody wound indeed. Melody had seen such injuries twice before and this one certainly looked real. "Anything besides the leg?"

"No."

"How has a serious injury? One that will get worse and kill if not treated properly or misdiagnosed and not caught until it's too late?"

"These two here," T'challa indicated two more bodies. "And this one here," he pointed his finger towards the broken windshield of the bus where a woman in a driver's uniformed was slouched over the broken windshield. "The six farther out are a mix of lacerations, broken bones and head trauma." 

"What's this one?" Melody asked, stepping over a twisted bumper towards the nearest body. "What does he have?"

"Evisceration," he replied and sure enough, as Melody turned him over, she saw the shiny pink-white blob of his intestines. "And the femoral artery is cut." _That explains the dark stain on his jeans._ Melody thought, pressing her hand to the patch of red and a thin stain of red coated her palm. It wasn't thick like real blood and didn't stick to her skin the way it should have. It was more like a projection, but even that wasn't the right word. 

Melody undid the belt on the sim, the garment not heavy enough to be real leather, but when she tied it around the moaning sim's wounded leg, it snapped tight the way a real thing would and she waited, silent and several minutes later, the blood had started to clot. Just as it would with a real tourniquet would do, but even that was only a temporary fix in a real life situation. But still, this was a good sign. The sim was reacting to normal procedures the way a real person might.

"Well Doctor," T'challa asked, "what do you think?"

"It's not exact, but I understand that nothing can be." Melody replied, standing up from the simulated man. "It looks very much like I'd expect of injuries like this, but I need to know how you've programed them to progress. I know it's not possible to factor in every possible situation that could follow, but we need to include the most common ones at the very least. The ones we'll most likely see in an event like this. I need a list of what's programed in here, into every patient."

T'challa smiled at her. "Of course, end simulation and print summary."

"Yes sir," the A.I. unit replied and with a flicker, the bright, bloody scene faded away as though a TV had been turned off. There was hiss-clicking as a printer hummed outside and Melody looked questioningly at T'challa. "Come," he replied, "it should be done by the time we get out."

"Isn't coding more complex than that?" Melody asked, opening the door to the sim, her mind buzzing. This wasn't perfect, not  yet, but it was an excellent step in the right direction. The time it took to set up wasn't so much her worry, more as the reaction time. The simulation of the patient with a cut artery was inaccurate. He wouldn't have lasted that long in real life, not with an injury like that. Not unless she'd gotten to him first, which Melody had not done. It looked real, yes, but it wasn't reacting in a realistic way and that did not make for a good teaching tool.

"This is just the summary of the things we programed into the simulation, what triggers them and the like." T'challa answered, strolling over to a nearby desk and grabbing a few sheets of paper from the printer. "If I'd wanted to the coding, I would've specified."

"Very nice," Melody commented as she took the papers from his outstretched hand. They were warm to the touch, fresh just as he'd said. She scanned over the information, each injury listed and the corresponding reactions based on basic, on-scene treatments were in line with what was typical of each respective condition. "This seems to be in order."

"But?" The monarch asked, eyes twinkling knowingly as he once again demonstrated his ability to read people.

"It is not enough to be an effective tool," she replied, sighing as she looked up from the papers. "Not yet. It's too slow."

"Slow? If you mean the set up time-."

"No," she interrupted. "I mean the time on each patient. The last one I was on, he had cut his femoral artery; that's the second largest artery in the body, because there was no pressure on the wound and because I took as long as I did to reach him, he would've bleed to death already. It's not enough for this to look real, it needs to reflect the medical situation and do it in a timely manner. Otherwise it's not useful." She realized how flat her voice had gotten and winced. "Sorry, I don't meant to be disrespectful."

"There is no apology needed," he replied. "I asked you for your expertise and it seems there is yet more work to be done. Do you have any other suggestions?"

"Yes," Melody said, smiling ironically to herself. "There was something you forgot to include."

"And what is that?"

"Trauma kits. A tool box, essentially for on-scene treatment. If this was a real accident," she gestured to the now, clear sim. "I would've had one with me and could've used the things inside to cut away that last patient's shirt and clear away excess fabric from the wound. I'm sorry, I know that probably means including more complex programing, but the training wouldn't make any sense if the students were deprived of tools they'd normally have in that situation."

"You seem to manage well enough," T'challa commented and Melody shook her head. 

"That time," she corrected him. " I managed well enough that time, I got lucky. I had enough makeshift supplies to treat that patient. It's not always like that. But maybe that would be a smarter place to begin," Melody felt a wild grin form on her face, the same one she'd worn the first time she'd seen the sim. "A simpler situation, a test of ingenuity and skill under pressure." Her toes curled, excitement bubbling in her stomach. "And a way to advance the simulation gradually rather than all at once."

"I don't follow you."

"You started too big," she answered him, throwing her arm back to gesture at the sim. "You tried to begin at the finish line instead of the starting line. You have to learn to walk before you can run. We need to go smaller, create a smaller multiple trauma situation." Melody tensed, curling her hands around the paper and scrunching it up. "Maybe another car crash, a van getting hit instead of a bus. Five patients instead of twenty. Limited their resources, what you'd find in car and in a purse or kid's backpack. The situation would be smaller then and I think, easier to fine tune the system to create better timing and fine details like shoelaces or pocket knives," she smirked, recalling how bulky the object had felt in her hands. "And once you have that in place-."

"A larger situation would be easier to create and would function properly," T'challa finished, his dark eyes shining with comprehension and excitement. "That's brilliant. I can't believe we didn't think of that."

"Sometimes an outsider can observe things more clearly," Melody replied, echoing his words to her from before. Emergency medical situations and romance relationships between surgeons and assassins were different, but the principle was the same. 

"Yes," he agreed. "It can be, but I don't want you to be an outsider Mel. I want you to be a partner."

"That's very flattering T'challa," she said, smiling at him. "And I am happy to help you in whatever way I can, but I have no expertise in this technology. I can't help you create it, I can only tell you if it's creating an accurate situation." 

"I know and as long as you're able, I want your input."

"Of course."

"But when it's ready, I want to put this in our top hospital to start with; teach the interns and residents there in addition to the other skills labs they're put through. Prepare them in case of real disasters."

Melody nodded. "A worthy goal in my book. In my not so humble opinion, trauma is the hardest thing to train for. There's very little routine in it. An appendectomy is an appendectomy and every time you perform it, the basics are always the same. Patient to patient some things might happen in one that won't in another, but still."

"I know less about medicine than you, but I feel that is correct as well." T'challa sighed and rocked back on his heels a moment, crossing his arms. "Training for your profession is sixteen years and you've been an attending for three yes?"

"That's correct," she confirmed.

"You've been doing this almost your whole life," he mused, smiling and shaking his head. "It's quiet extraordinary."

Melody was extraordinary, though she wasn't sure it was the in positive light that T'challa believed. The word only meant that something was unusual and unusual could be good or bad. "I've been told that, but truly, the extraordinary is saving a life. There's nothing in the world like it." It had been the reason she became a doctor. She already knew one extreme of life, what if felt like to end it. Being a surgeon had shown her the other end of the spectrum; the feeling of saving a life.

He smiled at her. "And that reasoning is why I want you to partner with me in this project."

"I already told you, I'm happy to help you perfect this simulation in anyway I can."

"And I'm glad for it, but that's not what I mean. While I want your help to perfect this," he jerked his head towards the sim. "And I want you to be the one to teach the other doctors how to use it, I want you to teach. I'll have to clear it with the board, but I want to hire you at South Central Hospital, as an attending for sure, as Head of Trauma if possible."

"Head of Trauma?" she squeaked. "I've only been an attending for three years, I'm still a baby in the world of surgical medicine, you cannot-."

"And you're brilliant," he interrupted. "And you've proven it time and again. There are people in this building who are alive because of it. You're first visit here you saved the life of some of my people. I _can_ offer you this position and that's exactly what I'm doing." T'challa smiled at her, but this looked a bit sad to her. "I want to dedicate this program to my father," he said in a much softer voice and he looked at his feet. "This will be his legacy and if that should come to pass, I want the best there is working at it."

Shame warmed her insides and Melody was unable to look at the king. _He has so much faith in me, enough to trust me with this. With a project entirely in his father's memory._ Her stomach twisted painfully and her head started to spin as her breathing became shallow. The change didn't go unnoticed either.

"Mel, are you alright? Do you need to sit down?" T'challa didn't wait for an answer, but grabbed a nearby chair, hefting it up and setting it down near her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you, I know this must be a trying time for you-."

"No," she said down, shaking her head, pressing her fingers into her temple. "It's not that." _I can't lie to him,_ she realized. If he was going to offer her this, ask her to take part in something so important and personal to him, Melody couldn't deceive him. He had a right to know who he was involving in his father's memorial. 

"Would you like some water?"

"No," she sighed and put her head between her knees. "Please, just, give me a second here. I need to breathe." Melody did exactly that, taking in a large pull of air through her nose and releasing it through her mouth. She repeated this several times, willing her heart to slow down. She would not shut down here, she couldn't. Melody had promised herself, never again to use that place for anything except saving life. She wasn't about to go back on it anytime soon. "T'challa, I can't accept this."

"I already told you, I can help you get your papers through to make sure you're legal to work here. And you don't have to sign on now, as you've already seen, the sim isn't ready yet."

"It's not that," she said, running a hand down her face. "This is a memorial for your father, you don't want me to be a part of that. He was an honorable man."

"He was and I believe he would've said the same about you."

"Because he would have no idea who I really am," she looked up at the king, briefly. "And frankly, you do not have that knowledge either." Melody sighed, she wasn't going to outright say she'd killed John, that was a confession and she had no idea how T'challa would respond to it. But implying there was more to her story than she let on was another matter. It wasn't proof, it was speculation. "I'm not as golden as my reputation."

"And what does that mean?"

"Nothing I'll disclose," Melody replied, hearing the cool, cryptic tone of her voice. Confessing was too risky, but she could at least imply something. T'challa was smart. He'd get the message. "Believe me, your father would not want me on this project. He was a good man."

T'challa was quiet for a moment and she could practically hear the gears whirring in his mind as he processed that comment. "And are you good Mel?" he asked finally, his accented voice low and clear.

"I'm a great surgeon," she replied, lips flickering up into a dry smile. "But I will never be truly good. Only better than I was. Your father deserves more than that." What John was made it possible to debate the true evilness of her actions, but one thing could never be argued away. Melody was capable of murder and that would always be a piece of her. No one could be truly good and have that be a part of them. It was not possible. 

T'challa sighed and Melody saw his long legs shift as he leaned against the desk. "Why did you become a surgeon? Can you tell me that?"

That one was easy. A generic answer for most surgeons but for her, entirely true. "I became a surgeon so I could save lives. I wanted to save lives."

"Then, I think it's safe to say you're exactly who my father would want to be on this project. Please," he said, "just think about it."  

Melody opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the doors of the lab opened again and in streamed several people in white coats as well as Steve Rogers and James, all of them wore the same tired and stoic expressions. There was no more time to talk, it was time to leave. "I'll think about it," she muttered, standing up and finally meeting T'challa gaze. His expression was calm, understanding, no hint of judgement or contempt as he looked at her. 

"Thank you Mel," he said, smiling at her. 

"If you'll excuse me," she said, feeling James's intense eyes on her as they talked. "I'm going to wish James luck and go back to my apartment, well it's yours technically, but," she shrugged, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. "I'll speak with you soon." And with no further word, Melody turned on her heel and made her way towards James, her head buzzing with new information.


	66. Sixty-Six

Bucky couldn't move. Not because the straps were holding him down, not because the drugs were making his limbs sluggish and throwing him off balance, nor was he injured. Bucky was just in shock. The doctors had left awhile ago, beaming and exhausted. But he couldn't move, he was paralyzed. Seventy-four attempts had been what it took, seventy-four failures and they'd _finally_ gotten it right. He still couldn't believe it. He'd wanted this for so long, dreamed of it and hoped but now it wasn't a dream or a hope. It was real, concrete. It had happened. The brainwashing hardware was gone, finally removed and he had control again. No one could utter a chain of words to wipe his mind blank and turn him into a weapon. It all sounded too good to be true, and yet it was.

Bucky looked down at his hand, which was still shaking and he laughed to himself, almost hysterical with disbelief. He was _free_. Decades of being a puppet for monsters, two years of having the hardware in his mind, like an axe over his head and now it was gone. He was safe from Hydra for the first time in over seventy years. 

"What's funny?" Steve asked, adjusting his stance against the wall, beaming. Bucky was wondering if his face was hurting. Steve had not stopped grinning since Doctor Chen had announced their treatment had worked. 

"I just can't believe it's over." Bucky replied, laughing still. "I know it's real, but it just...doesn't feel like it is. I feel like any second I'm going to wake up. Or someone is going to jump out and yell 'kidding' at me."

"This is not a kidding situation," he shook his head, "and it is real. You just need time to adjust to the idea." Steve shrugged. "I know it's not the same thing, but that's what it was like for me, waking up after the ice. I knew where I was, was a real place, but I couldn't wrap my head around it at first. It took some time." Steve leaned up from his perch on the wall and sat down next to Bucky on the exam table, the wax paper crinkling as he did so. "Just give yourself so time Buck," he collapsed Bucky's shoulder, still grinning like an idiot. "You'll get there eventually."

Bucky felt a smile tug at his mouth and he looked over at Steve. "I wouldn't have gotten this far if it hadn't been for you. You saved me." He didn't elaborate on what he meant by that, but he figured Steve would know. Everything that had happened today, it had been set in motion because Steve had fought for him over two years ago on a helicarrier. 

Now it was Steve's turn to look away. "Like I said, I'm with you til the end of the line."

"Most people wouldn't take that so literally," Bucky said dryly. "Not after I was so far gone."

"You were still there," he disagreed. "You just needed a little help to get out."

"You almost died you punk."

"Details," Steve said with a dismissive shrug. "Besides," his teasing grin faded a bit. "You would've done it for me."

Bucky would've liked to think that it was true, but truth be told, he had no idea. There were some situations out there where you had no idea what you'd do until you found yourself in them. He was pretty sure finding his best friend whom he'd believed dead had been turned into an assassin with no recollection of his former life was one of those situations. "I'm not so sure," he admitted, looking directly at Steve. "I mean, I'd like to think I would, but I've never been in that situation before. Not on that side of it anyways." 

"Well hopefully you won't have to find out," Steve said, squeezing his shoulder once before letting his arm drop. "And, you won't have to see the other side of it again either," his smile returned and Bucky felt it mirror on his face.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I won't." He paused a moment and took a deep breath. Bucky had not enjoyed admitting that to Steve, but he was done lying to his best friend. Well sort off. There was one thing he'd never be able to tell him, but that was different. That story wasn't his to tell, it was Melody's. 

Melody. The ring in his pocket was suddenly heavier, like a block of lead. Melody, he had a future with her now. "Bucky? Are you okay?"

"What?" he blinked, feeling as though he'd been hit over the head. That ring in his pocket wasn't just a reminder of a distant, far off goal now. It was an opportunity that was sitting right in front of him, all he had to do was take it. 

"You're really pale," Steve told him. "You alright?"

"Fine," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just...overwhelmed."

"Give it time." 

That was good advice usually, but this was one thing Bucky didn't want to wait on. He just had no idea how he was going to go about it. "This is one thing I don't want to wait for," he admitted, grinning at Steve again.

"Wait for what?"

"Don't freak out," he warned. He had no idea what Sharon had told Steve about Melody (as they'd never breached the topic) but in case he knew the truth, he didn't want Steve to panic when Bucky told him his plans.

"I won't."

"Promise?" he pressed and Steve rolled his eyes. 

"You're acting weird."

"Promise," he insisted. Steve had always been good for his word and Bucky fully intended to take advantage of that right now. 

"Fine," Steve put a hand over his heart. "I promise. Now what's on your mind?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. The heirloom gleaming faintly in the white lights of the lab. "I want to propose to Melody."

Steve stared at the ring with wide eyes. "That was your moms."

"Yes," Bucky glanced at Steve. Aside from the look of shock on his face, he seemed very calm. "You alright?" he asked, tentatively, waiting for Steve to open his mouth and ask if he was feeling alright. 

"Just shocked," Steve mumbled, not taking his eyes off the ring. "I mean, I _just_ got used to the idea of you two being a couple and now you're saying you want to _marry_ her. That's a bit of a leap." 

"I love her," Bucky said simply, closing his fingers around the small band. He'd loved her for two years, even though during that time, they'd only been together for about eight months all together. That time had been some of the best of his life, but now that he was free, that Hydra was out of his head, he wanted more than a few scattered months. He wanted a lifetime. 

"Why was that in your pocket?"

"I asked Melody how she got through med school. It's a long, grueling process. Sort of like this. She told me it helped her to keep a reminder of her end goal with her, something to remind her why she was putting herself through all because something was more important than the struggle. I thought that was good advice, so I decided to give it a try."

"And that's why you had that in your pocket," he finished, "to remind you of her. You really love her." Steve sounded  little more surprised than was polite and Bucky gave him a flat look . "Sorry, but cut me some slack. I've never seen you like this about anyone. And there's the whole thing with who she is, I still have a hard time seeing her with _anyone_."

"You just saw her kiss me about two hours ago," Bucky reminded him. Melody had been in the lab with T'challa when they'd entered. She was leaving, but they'd kissed before she'd gone out. The reactions of the medical team had been sort of hilarious. They'd openly stared at the exchange and were dead silent afterwards until Doctor Chen had barked at them to get moving.

"She's never struck me as an affectionate person," Steve defended himself. "She and Sharon are- _were_ ," he corrected himself quietly. The subject of Sharon was pretty touchy at the moment, she was angry, hurt and confused over everything that had happened. "Very close and I rarely saw any affection on her part."

"Melody's idea of affection is very different from other people," Bucky informed him. "Look at her life, it's not hard to imagine why it's hard for her." They'd been watching the coverage of Melody's disappearance and sure enough, Moira had gotten interviewed by the press. She'd admitted to the abuse her daughter had suffered and now, Steve and everyone else in the compound knew the truth, or rather that piece of it. 

His gaze darkened. "Yeah," he muttered. "It's not." He ran a hand down his face, the scratching sound of whiskers on skin filling the gap in their conversation. A silence fell between them for a second and then Steve smiled at him. "You have a plan for how you're going to ask her?"

"None."

"Really?"

"I didn't want to get ahead of myself," Bucky explained, hanging his head. "As long as Hydra was stuck in my brain, I knew I couldn't ask her and I had no idea if or when we'd ever get it out." Dreaming had it's place, but it wasn't always a good thing. Dreams weren't always rooted in realistic expectations and that meant the pain would only be worse when reality set in.

"Well you have some time to think about it," Steve reasoned. "You are getting your arm reattached later, you'll have plenty of time to think of something then."

"Yeah," he laughed. "I guess so." That's what they had been waiting for now. It had been agreed, back when they'd first started all these treatments that if and when they worked, they'd take the time to give Bucky his arm back. Living with one arm had been semi-annoying, but it wasn't a matter of comfort, but safety of others. Now that the danger was gone and though Bucky had no idea how long the process was, he did have a feeling it would give him plenty of time to think.

***

"Can you feel this?" the doctor with a cheerful smiled asked him as he prodded the tips of one of Bucky's fingers with a scalpel. Normally, a needle would've been used, but despite the modifications that had been made in the prosthetic's design, it still wasn't sensitive enough to feel something that small. 

A sharp jabbing sensation radiated through his hand and he drew back, disliking the sensation. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't pleasant either. "I felt that."

"Great," the doctor returned the scalpel to the tray. "Everything looks to be in order. Any concerns you have?"

"No, thank you." 

"Wonderful," the man yawned. He'd mentioned his name earlier, when they'd first begun the process of reattaching his arm, but Bucky couldn't remember it. They'd given him some sort of painkiller during the process and it had made it hard to focus. "If you'll excuse me then, I'll be heading out. Goodnight."

"Night," Bucky muttered, getting out the chair he was in as well, knees cracking as he did so. He'd been laying still or sitting all day and as a result his limbs were pretty stiff. The doctor left, the hissing of an automatic door opening and closing behind him and Bucky examined the metal of his hand again. T'challa, somehow, had retrieved it back in Siberia and since he'd woken up from cryo, his team of engineers had been modifying it, trying to make it more functional in day to day life as well as combat. However, those changes were all internal, outwardly, the arm was the same as it had been for seventy-two years, even down to the red star on his bicep.

His use of the scientific name of his upper arm stopped Bucky short and he let his hand fall to his side, heart dropping into his stomach. This was it. Hydra was out of his head, he had two arms again and now...now there was just one thing left to be done. _Don't be a coward,_ Bucky scolded himself as he walked out of the lab, blood pounding in his ears. _The worst thing she can do is say no and even if she does, it doesn't mean she doesn't love you._ For Bucky, love and marriage had always been interrelated concepts, though he only dimly remembered his parents, he did remember that they had been very much in love with each other and committed. They'd been his ideal for what a happy marriage was supposed to look like, even now, when they'd been dead and gone for nearly a hundred years. He and Melody weren't his parents, but Bucky couldn't ignore the gut feeling that they, if they decided could have the same long and happy life together. Different than most, but still happy either way and he wanted that. But to even have a shot at that future, he'd need to bite the bullet and ask her to build it with him. 

 _The worst she can do is say no,_ he reminded himself as he made his way back towards the apartment. _And the only one who knows anything about this is Steve, so I won't have to deal with too much sympathy if things don't go the way I want._ Bucky reached the apartment, his heart hammering in his chest as he grabbed the key from it's hiding place in the plastic fern (he'd left his key on the kitchen table this morning) and let himself inside. The apartment's lights were on, but as Bucky shut the door behind him, he realized it was silent. Silent, save the soft sound of breathing and sure enough, when he looked over towards the source of the noise, it was Melody. Though rather than being in bed like a normal person, she was at the table, slumped over the surface, sheets of paper strewn out in front of her and a pen inches from her fingers. 

Bucky couldn't stop the smile that came to his face and he shook his head as he approached her. "Hey," he whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Tables aren't places to sleep."

Melody groaned and her eyes began to flutter as she woke up. "James? When did you get back?"

"Just now," he grinned, brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her forehead. "Come on, you can't sleep here."

"But I was just doing that," she pointed out, looking at him with bleary eyes and tilting her head, a sleepy smile on her face. 

"You're going to get a stiff neck," Bucky replied, "come on." He looped one arm under her legs and his other around her back. He tried to hold back his laughter as he lifted her from her seat and in her tired state, Melody hadn't yet realized he had two arms again. He walked over to the bed and laid Melody down on it, pulling the covers over her as she smiled, the expression lazy in her exhausted state. "You didn't have to stay up for me," he kissed her cheek before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I failed at that," she yawned. "I was asleep when you came in." Her smile faded and she sat upright, eyes bright and alert. "You're back! And you have two arms."

"Bravo you finally noticed." He waved his left hand, smiling. "It worked. We finally got it." 

What?"

"We got it," he repeated, cupping her face with his hands. "I'm free."

"James," she was positively beaming now, all traces of exhaustion gone from her face and her eyes were bright as tears poured down her face. "You did it."

"I'd give more credit to the doctors," he replied, leaning into her and kissing her. "They did it."

"But you were the one who had to go through it. And I am so proud of you," now it was her turn to lean into him and Bucky could feel her smile as their lips met again.  "You did it," her arms locked around his neck, holding him tightly. "You made it 'til the end and now," she laughed again, the sound was pure joy. "You're free. They can't hurt you anymore."

"No," he agreed, "they can't." _And more importantly, they can't make me hurt anyone else. They can't make me forget you._ He'd never hurt her again, nothing could force him to do it now. For the first time since they'd met, Bucky was finally safe for her. "I couldn't have done this without you," he confessed, his heart fluttering faster in his chest.

"No, you could have. It just might have taken you longer to realize it."

"Maybe, but I can't say for sure. I just know that this was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do and that you helped me through it."

"I didn't do anything," Melody disagreed, drawing away from him and wiping her streaming eyes with the corner of a blanket. "I just talked to you. I didn't get involved with treatment."

Bucky shook his head and grabbed her hand with his human one. Her skin was warm against his and he smiled at her. "No, but you were still there with me anyways."

"That is physically impossible."

Bucky grinned again, as per usual, Melody was being more logic than love and was being very literal as a result. "I mean that I was always thinking about you when I was there. Always." Well until his brain got wiped but that wasn't the point. Undeterred, he pressed on, sliding his other hand into his pocket and his heart started rising into his throat as he grasped the thin band. "I have a question for you, and I need you to answer honestly."

"Okay," she frowned at him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Bucky said, his mouth dry as he tried to find whatever was left of his courage. "I'm better now than I've been in years." He looked away from her confused gaze, looking down at their hands as he tried to find the right words to say. "I have a life again. I'm still a criminal, but," he smiled again, "I have my free will back. I can make choices again and no one can take them away from me." Bucky drew his hand from his pocket, fingers closed around the ring. "And I'd like to start doing that, I want to start deciding how my life is going to go."

"I don't see a question in this."

Bucky laughed again and looked up at Melody, heart leaping as he saw her warm, but confused smile. Her logic was once again blinding her to emotion. "Melody Frasier," he slid off the edge of the bed and knelt down, "will you marry me?"


	67. Sixty-Seven

If this situation hadn't been so serious, Melody's expression would've made Bucky laugh. Her eyes were wide, jaw hanging open with disbelief-a look of complete and utter confusion which was not something often seen on her face."W-what?" she asked, her voice a little squeaky. Not a great sign, but Bucky pressed on anyways. 

"Will you marry me?" he repeated, voice steady and sure and he smiled at her. "Melody, you can answer me however you want to," he squeezed her hand. "It's okay." Regardless of whether or not she said yes, he did know that she loved him. If she didn't want to be his wife he did know that her rejection didn't come from a lack of love, just a difference in belief. Marriage had always meant a lifetime commitment to him, a life with the person you loved but Melody had not had the same upbringing he had. His parents, the married couple he'd watched for most of his life had been a good example, her parents (though they barely deserved the title) were not. 

 "Yes."

Now it was his turn to look confused. "What?"

"Yes," she said, laughing as she gripped his hand. "My answer is yes."

Bucky tried to speak, but no words came out. He couldn't believe it. She'd said yes. The answer he most definitely wanted, but not the one he'd been expecting. Melody tilted her head at him, "Aren't you going to get up?

"Oh yeah," Bucky stood up, noting that in the short time he'd been kneeling, an ache had begun to form in his knee. "Sorry," he sat down on the edge of their bed again, unable to control the wide, crazy grin that was spreading across his face.  "Here," he said, heart beating a little faster in his chest, "let's see if this fits." Melody nodded and allowed him to slide the ring onto her left hand and just like in his imagination, the ring fit her perfectly. While the sight filled him with an unbridled sort of joy, a different feeling started to creep in on him. Looking it now, he realized the ring was quiet old and perhaps not to her taste.

"I know it's not exactly modern," Bucky apologized, glancing down a moment at the small band and diamond. "But it was my mother's." And it wasn't like he had any money to purchase something different and even if he did, walking into a jewelry store wasn't an option either. 

 Melody laced her fingers through his, the smooth metal rubbing against his skin. "I love it." 

The worry he'd been feeling a second before vanished."I can't believe you said yes," he laughed, raising his newly restored hand and resting it against her neck. Bucky knew the model had been improved and was curious to know now, just how much feeling it had. More than he was accustomed to, but as he felt a slight shift in her muscles as she leaned into his touch, he was proven right. He could feel her moving, but the temperature of her skin as well as the texture was a mystery. 

"Why is that so surprising?" She rested her hand over his, her skin making a soft sound against the metal and almost instantly Bucky felt the change in pressure though she was using little to no force at all.

"We've never talked about getting married, not once. And honestly," he sighed, looking down at Melody with a contemplative gaze. "I doubt you and I view the whole idea of marriage the same way. I didn't expect that you'd like the idea."

"I never gave it any real thought," Melody answered with a shrug. "It was never in the game plan for me." A smile flickered across her mouth, "Until now that is."

Bucky felt the expression mirror on his face and he leaned into her, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. This wasn't like other times they'd kissed, there was no blazing passion or pain as a goodbye severed their lives again-this was routine. A kiss that was simple, something that was expected to happen again and again as their lives went on. One moment in hundreds that they had to look forward to now. 

They broke apart and Bucky felt his smile grow wider as he drew Melody into his arms, holding her the way he'd wanted to for so long-with two hands. "I love you," they were words said thousands of times, by a thousand other people every day, but there weren't others that existed to sum up what he was feeling in that moment. 

Melody yawned in reply and he laughed, the moment not shattered, but changed. As much as Bucky would've enjoyed staying up and talking, it wasn't a feesible option at the moment. But that was okay, they weren't on a time limit anymore; they had the rest of their lives now. "You should rest," Bucky said, smiling softly at her."You've had a long day-we both have." This had easily been the best day of his life, but still, it had been quiet eventful and long. Now that his adrenaline was ebbing away, he was starting to feel the effects of it all. Two major procedures and an engagement where more than enough to make a man tired. With practiced ease, he slid one arm around Melody's back and laid her against the mattress again while at the same time using his other to draw the covers around her once more. The moment she was settled, her eyes fluttering shut, he kicked off his shoes and crawled over to his side of the bed.

"I love you," she yawned, the sound high-pitched and (in Bucky's mind) adorable. He rolled onto his side, letting his arm fall over her, his chest pressed up against her back. While she was too tired to talk (and he was on his way now as well) actions did speak louder than words. And something told Bucky cuddling had to be worth a few thousand words at least. "Goodnight," Melody yawned again and even as she said it, her breathing changed, becoming slow, even and deep. Bucky was starting to think her ability to fall asleep anywhere and do so quickly had to qualify as a superpower.

"Goodnight," he whispered back, knowing his fiancé ( a thrill swept through him at the thought) was well on her way to a world of dreams. 


	68. Sixty-Eight

Melody couldn't stop staring at the ring. On the surface, it was nothing incredible at all. A thin gold band that grew thicker at the center to hold a small, square diamond (or at least she assumed that was what it was) but despite it's simple appearance, it's effect was monumental. She was getting married-and the thought of that had been keeping her awake since four o'clock that morning. She'd initially been asleep, but a sound from the jungle outside had startled her awake for a moment and even as she'd laid her head back down against her pillow, eyes drifting shut into sleep, an unfamiliar weight on her left hand had confused her and the events of the night before had come rushing back to her and effectively woken her up.

And now Melody had been laying awake ever since, James out like a light beside her and her mind swirling with hundreds of thoughts as she looked at the piece of jewelry. Well, more like one thought, that she was engaged but that one thought brought on a hundred different, contradicting feelings. First and foremost, Melody was just stunned by the turn of last nights events. She'd been reviewing notes from the bus crash sim, waiting for James to return, but as hours had ticked away, she'd fallen asleep. From there, he'd revealed that Hydra's brainwashing hardware had finally been removed from his mind and of course, she'd been over the moon about that. Finally, after such a long, hard struggle through it, James was finally free of Hydra and their control. But what had come next, she'd not been expecting, not at all. It had been a proposal, but not the sort Melody was accustomed to or had expected to encounter at any point in her life. James had asked her to marry him.

Just that was enough to confuse and shock the hell out of her. Melody had never given any thought to her getting married, not once in her life. As a child, when John had been alive, the most she could imagine of her life was merely one day ahead at the most. To live one more day had been the only future she could imagine. Things had changed after John's death, she'd been able to envision years ahead, a long, healthy life. But those dreams hadn't included marriage or falling in love either. All she'd dreamed of was becoming a surgeon and down the line, getting involved in some research or clinical trials that would make a significant impact on modern medicine. Until last night, marriage had never been a thought, it was merely an abstract concept that other people wanted. Now it was her reality. The man next to her was her future husband. The thought sent a fluttering warmth through Melody and she turned her head to look at him. Whether it was the strain of the previous day or the excitement she didn't know, but James had been sleeping like a rock all night. Even now, as the sun was creeping up on the east horizon, he was still knocked out. His shaggy hair was obscuring his face, mussed around by sleep, one leg kicked out from under the blanket and his right arm sprawled in her direction, though they were no longer touching as James was a bit of a restless sleeper, even on good nights. He looked comical, but also peaceful and Melody felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. 

He was the reason she'd said yes. Marriage she didn't really understand (and she was still trying to work it out) but she did fully comprehend one thing; she loved James, loved him in ways she didn't think she was capable of loving anyone and when he'd been looking at her with that nervous smile, telling her that the first thing he wanted now that he was free from Hydra was to be with her and there had only been one answer for her to give. She did love him, but she still didn't really understand what she thought of the whole marriage thing. However, she wasn't able to dwell on the matter much longer, James's sighed and rolled over, his blue eyes opening and a sleepy smile forming on his face.

"Morning beautiful,"his arm shifted towards her, curling around her thigh. "Stop rolling your eyes."

"Sorry," Melody laughed. "I just think 'beautiful' is-."

James's was fast, his fingers crawling across her stomach and Melody erupted into laughter at the sensation. Damn him,  he'd learned one of her biggest weaknesses. "You promised," he reminded her, letting his forehead rest against her shoulder.

"That wasn't what I meant," she replied, breathless. "Which you would've known had to you let me finish talking."

"Sorry," he said with a grin, indicating that James was not at all sorry. "Knee jerk reaction. What did you want to say?"

"It's a bit early in the morning to call me beautiful," she finished. "My hair's a mess and my breath could probably knock you out."

"I know," James said, grinning as he brushed a kiss against her shoulder. "It's the reason I haven't kissed you yet." Even saying that, his mouth brushed against her neck. "You're still beautiful." She felt his smile and couldn't stop one from forming on her face as well. In five minutes, with about three sentences or so, James had already made her smile. A feat that usually took a great deal more to accomplish, especially before coffee. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes." Melody hadn't really eaten yesterday, aside from a pot of coffee and an apple. She knew it wasn't healthy and had actually intended to do better, but the combination of James's stint in the lab and T'challa's offer had driven the matter from her mind. 

"Did you eat yesterday?" James asked, apparently reading her mind. Or her guilty face. Probably the latter. "Melody, that's not okay."

"Are you going to lecture me or are you going to feed me?"

James rolled off the bed and held down a hand to her. "I feel I can do both."

Melody rolled her eyes in reply and allowed him to help her up. However, when she got to her feet, he didn't let go of her hand. She intended to open her mouth, remind him that they'd need their hands free if they wanted to cook anything, but the words stopped when she saw that he was looking at the ring on her finger, a ghost of his smile from the night before flickering across his face.

"You like that, don't you?" She asked, curling her fingers around his, the small stone reflecting the light for a second and it reflected on James's cheek.

"More than you can imagine." He squeezed her hand once before letting go. "Go and get ready, I'll start on breakfast."

"I can help," she offered and James's still wasn't able to turn his laugh into a cough fast enough to hide it from her. "Oh come on, you said you'd teach me."

"Yes, I did but I want to start small."

"Small like eggs?"

"No, small like oatmeal or toast."

"I can make toast and I hate oatmeal." She'd tried it once, when visiting Peggy with Sharon and had barely gotten through two spoonfuls before giving up. 

"Unimportant," James said with a sly grin. "You need oil or some other kind of grease to cook eggs so they don't stick to the pan and those things light on fire if you're not careful. Oatmeal will turn into charcoal first. Seems a safer place to start given your skills."

Melody's face flamed, he had a point. Cooking had never been her strongest skill and were this a  surgical skill, she would've advocated for starting at the very bottom rung as well. "Fine, we'll start there."

"And that also gives me some time to local necessary safety equipment; like a fire extinguisher." James laughed at the jab and she rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, you can't be excellent at every thing." He kissed her cheek, still chuckling. "Go get dressed."

Melody shoved his chest playfully, unable to stop her smile and turned away, walking towards the closet. James didn't own much for clothing, so as a result, everything he had fit into the small dresser without problem. As a result, the closet had been mostly empty (save the few guns he'd placed inside) and now in addition, her clothing was stored inside now too. Taking care to avoid the rifle against the wall, she grabbed her olive green blouse (a new item she'd bought not long after her arrival to Wakanda as her suitcase had been lost by the airline) as well as some light-wash jean shorts and clean underwear. Once her things were gathered over her arm, Melody shut the closet door and walked towards the bathroom.

She had no qualms about undressing in front of James, but she didn't like how open the studio apartment was (or that Steve could kick in the door without a problem). James could see her unclothed and it no longer bothered her. When he stared, she knew it wasn't out of pity or horror. Everyone else wouldn't be like that thought, she knew that. The reactions of her fellow staff in the hospital when she'd been shot had shown her that. Tucker Jones (who'd been on the scene) had cursed like a sailor seeing the trauma that had been inflicted on her so many years before. Derrick, her boyfriend at the time had thrown up into a potted plant and a scrub nurse had fainted in the OR when they'd turned her over and revealed the rest of the damage. Sharon had screamed... Melody slammed the door to the bathroom, the noise breaking image that had started to form in her mind. The very last thing she wanted to do was think about Sharon.

Sighing, she stripped out of her clothing and changed, careful to avoid looking at her reflection until she was covered up again. When that was done, she finally looked at her face in the mirror and winced. She certainly looked as though she'd spent part of her night sleeping on a table. She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face and then on the back of her neck, the motion was routine, easy, but there was a change, a hard bit of metal against her skin. Melody grabbed a towel, dabbing the water off her face and looking down at her left hand again, seeing the unfamiliar glint of an engagement ring there and once again, her thoughts went into a spiral as she tried to make sense of everything she was feeling.

 _I love him,_ Melody told herself firmly, the truth of that was something she could feel all the way down to her bones. _But I don't know if I love the idea of being married, or marriage at all. None._ She hated that, but there was no other data for her to gather. Not now anyways. Maybe she just needed to give herself more time to get accustomed to the idea. More time to consider what this whole institution was to her. It had only been a few hours after all. James's advice from earlier echoed in her mind, she didn't have to be the best at everything and maybe that included sorting out her feelings about an unknown situation. 

Melody shook her head and grabbed her brush, raking the bristles through her knotted hair. Yep, she'd defiantly spent part of her night asleep on a hard surface. It was the only explanation as to why the knots in her hair where so matted on one side. Once her hair was managed, she left the bathroom and her stomach rumbled as the mouthwatering smell of frying bacon and the sharp scent of coffee filled the air.

"Oh God," she grabbed a mug from the cabinet and reached for the coffee pot. "You're awesome."

"Thank you," James replied, flipping over the crispy, greasy meat with a tongs. "I try my best."

Melody took a sip of the bitter black liquid. Instantly, her senses seemed to heighten or maybe she was just crazy. She didn't care regardless. "What's that smell?" she asked, noticing now that she was less focused on coffee, another scent was starting to come onto focus, a fresh, warm scent. 

James tapped a button the oven and Melody crouched down to see what was inside, rising in the yellow light was a tray of biscuits. She gave him a questioning look and he shrugged. "In case the flower didn't work," he explained, "the plan after that was to make you a special breakfast. I know you told me, before I showed up and fed you, you got a lot of your meals on the go, so I thought something like that might cheer you up." 

A pang shot through her hearing that. Her silence from the last two weeks hadn't just been about her; they'd effected him too. "James, I-."

"I know," he interrupted. "You don't need to say it."

"But-."

"You were in pain," he said firmly, "and if I remember correctly, when I was the one suffering, I was a complete ass to you but you were still patient and let me work things out how I needed to."

"Not entirely true," she reminded him. "I got pushy at times."

"You got pushy when I was physically injured and needed medical attention. That's a good reason to get pushy." James slid past her and grabbed a bowl from the counter. "Want to grab some paper towels please?"

"Sure," Melody did as he asked and handed them off, watching as he laid them across the surface of the bowl and lifted the cooked bacon onto it. Instantly, the grease soaked into the paper and she winced. Bacon was delicious and she wouldn't deny that, but it was _so_ high in fat and salt- a heart attack on a plate. 

James noticed her expression. "What? Please don't tell me you hate bacon because that's just sad." The words were accompanied by a theatrical shake of his head.

"No," she laughed, "I love it. It's just so bad for you. So much salt, so much trans fat and let's not even get started on how bad all those things are for a cardiovascular system."

"That's the heart right?"

"Very good!" 

"A few things are bound to stick," James shrugged. "I'm better with bones though," he gave her a roughish grin and Melody felt her face flame. "Like this," he slid his arm around her waist, drawing her to him and he let his hand drift up her side. "These," his fingers curled around the lower part of her ribs. "These are your floating ribs. Don't really protect anything, but as you get farther up," his hand moved, "you reach the actual part of the rib cage that protects your vital organs. And they all connect with the sternum," his hand grazed over her chest, tapping the selfsame bone as he spoke. "Except the floating ribs, which is how they got the name."

 _Talk nerdy to me,_ Melody thought, grinning as she leaned into his touch. "Very, very good. What else-?" A knock at the door shattered the moment and she silently cursed whoever was on the other side of the door for interrupting her lesson. 

"I'll get it," James offered, looking a bit annoyed himself. "Hang on," his arms left her and Melody tapped her foot on the floor, irritation running through her as the door clicked open. "Hey!" Scott's excited voice reached her ears. "We heard the good news! You're cured!"

Her annoyance ebbed away, she was pretty fond of the Scott. Anyone who could take being shot through the arm with an arrow in good grace was alright in her book. "Yeah," James answered back, "I am."

"I brought some cheap champagne," Sam's voiced reached her ears now. "Think this is something worth celebrating."

"Isn't it a bit early for drinking?"

"Not if you have orange juice," Scott's quick reply came, "and what's the smell? Bacon? Mel's making breakfast?"

James's burst out laughing. "Oh God no," he choked and Melody turned her head in his direction, seeing that he was kneeling over, holding his hand against the wall for support. 

"Oh come on!"

"Sorry!" James choked and even from her current distance, she saw the confusion on the superhero's faces as they saw him laugh. "I can't-!" He broke off, still laughing uncontrollably and Melody rolled her eyes. 

Scott had apparently decided this was invitation enough and stepped inside the apartment. "Um Doc, what's wrong with Bucky?" 

"My skills in the kitchen are a bit of a joke," she admitted, running a hand down her face as James got control of his laughter. 

"That's okay," Scott said with a grin. "I can't cook either." He peeked around her and beamed when he saw the bacon. "Is it too much to hope that we're going to get invited to breakfast?" Scott looked at her hopefully and she was about to formally invite him, but stopped short when she noticed him squinting at her.

"What?"

"You're wearing a ring," Scott said slowly, "I've never seen it before."

Melody smiled, knowing how much this would mean to James. "We have a lot to celebrate." 


	69. Sixty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters today, enjoy! :)

"I still cannot believe this," Sam muttered, long after they'd gotten breakfast served. He, along with Steve were leaning up at the counter, munching on breakfast sandwiches and taking part in the animated conversation at the table. Sadly, T'challa had not stocked the apartment with furniture designed for seven people. Much less seven very stunned people. Not long after Scott's noticing of her ring, she had confirmed that she and James were getting married and the news had been met with various reactions. Sam was most confused and his expression was mirrored on the faces of Wanada and Agent Barton. Steve looked very pleased about the news, but hadn't said much, preferring rather to eat breakfast and listen to the conversation Melody was now having with Scott.

"So," the thin man said, eyes twinkling as he grabbed a slice of bacon from the plate. "How'd it happen?"

Melody thought that was an odd question. "He asked and-."

"No, no!" Scott interrupted as he  waved his hand, the bacon snapping in two as he did. "That part's obvious. I mean how'd he do it?" he gestured with his broken food to James. "When I proposed to my ex, I brought her to the zoo and when we did the nature walk thing they had their, I proposed her to in the Japanese garden. So," he grinned, polishing off the slice, "how'd it happen?"

 _Not that,_   Melody thought and she was thankful for it. His simple approach had confused her enough and she was loathe to think about what a more elaborate gesture would've done. James, thankfully, was the one who answered Scott and it was another thing to be thankful for, she was sure he remembered the details better than she did.

"I got back here pretty late she was actually sleeping already so I just moved her to bed and she was so out of it she didn't realize I had two arms again." He shot a grin at Melody who blushed, hiding her face her hands. "And when she finally figured it out, I told her the treatment had finally worked and asked her to marry me." James's shrugged, self-deprecatingly, "Not exactly grand, but we can't all have Japanese gardens."

Scott laughed, a good-natured sound. "I'll say, but I guess the important part came after; she said yes."

"Which I still can't believe," Sam interjected from his spot in the kitchen, holding a half-eaten biscuit in one hand. "No offense."

"You can't say that and then say 'no offense'," Scott said, looking over at Sam and shaking his head. "The entire phrase is pretty offensive, Bucky's a very nice guy-." Melody fought back a laugh, some fiancé she was, Scott was doing more to defend her future husband than she was. The situation was a bit ironic.

"Got nothing to do with Bucky," Sam replied, shrugging. "None of you guys knew Mel before all this and I did. Back in New York, before all this, there was this other surgeon who was really into her. The guy was flirting with her for at least a month before he gave up and used the direct approach."

Scott cocked his head. "Doc?"

"All true," she confirmed, shaking her head. Derrick had to flat-out say he was flirting with her before she realized what he'd been doing. "I'm really bad at the stuff." She rubbed the back of her neck,  a bit self-continuous-being bad at things was not something she liked. "I didn't realize this guy," she nudged James with her elbow and he smiled at her, "loved me until he told me either."

"See?" Sam said, wearing a self-satisfied grin as crumbs fell onto the floor.. "It's not Bucky that's throwing me off; it's her. No offense Mel! You're awesome and anyone would be very lucky to have you." He added the last part hastily, eyeing her with apprehension. Apparently offending James's was something he could live with, but offending her was not. 

"No, I get it. It's fine." She waved her hand airily. "I'm not exactly the marrying kind."

"Aw," Scott said, the sound a bit like what Melody was accustomed to hearing every time she walked passed  the nursery at the hospital. "That's sort of adorable; Doc has a soft side."

Melody shrugged. "Don't go spreading that," she warned him, though the grave tone of her voice was ruined by her smile.

"I won't. I don't think you'd like me if I was the reason your future husband got arrested."

"Not even close to what I was thinking actually," she commented, grabbing a piece of bacon for herself and taking a bite. Yes, it wasn't a superfood by any means, but most things were not bad, provided they were taken in moderation. 

"Oh?" Scott cocked his head.

"I've got a reputation and a soft side really goes against it." She swallowed the last of the bacon, the crunchy, greasy meat not tasting so good anymore. Her reputation had been shattered the moment her past came out into the open. 

"Don't worry Mel," Sam interjected, "you'll always be Doctor Freezer to me, even if I know you're secretly a romantic."

"Thanks Sam," she laughed, knowing as well as he did that she was very, very far from a romantic. 

"'Doctor Freezer'?" Wanda spoke up, her accented, clear voice alight with curiosity. "What's that all about?"

"The hospital I used to work at," her use of the past tense word sent a heavy feeling into her veins. "It was a teaching hospital and that was the name my students called me behind my back. We all pretended I didn't know."

Wanda's doe-like brown eyes were thoughtful a moment. "I'd say that's not very nice, but you don't seem bothered by it."

"With a reputation like that," she said with a sly grin, "no resident or intern was foolish enough to try and flatter their way into my favor. And no attending that worked at West Memorial doubted my abilities."

"Others did then?"

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because most of my students were older than me; I'm young, for a surgeon." Melody added the last bit for clarification, she didn't think Wanda would view her as young given that she was older than the Avenger.

"But you're brilliant," James interjected, eyes twinkling with pride. "So you've had people ask to work with you, without realizing who you were. Like what's-his-name?"

"Stein," Melody supplied, tasting something bitter just saying his name. "Sexist prick."

"I want to hear this story." Scott said, looking quiet excited and Wanda nodded as well, so Melody explained how he'd subbed in from another hospital and dismissed her help on a tricky case, but in the same breath had said he would only work with Doctor Freezer and in retaliation, she'd sent him all over the hospital searching for 'him'. When she got to the end of her story, Scott threw his head back laughing and he wasn't alone either. Most of the rouge superheroes were giggling as well, save James who just smiled. But then again, he already knew this story. 

"I wish you could've gotten a picture," Scott said, leaning forwards against the table and gasping for air. "I bet his expression was priceless!"

"It was," she agreed, smiling at the memory. Doctor Stein's hit-over-the-head expression was indeed a fond memory of hers. 

"It's too bad though," Scott said frowning a moment later. "Doctor Freezer's a pretty badass name, I mean," he shot a teasing glance at Wanada. "It's not Scarlet Witch, but still. Kinda sad giving that up huh? They can't really call you that if your last name is Barnes. Just isn't clever then."

Melody tensed; she hadn't considered that. She wouldn't be a Frasier anymore when she married James. The name she had wouldn't be shared with a coward and a monster, but with someone who loved her and who she loved back. "This is the twenty-first century Scott," Clint said dryly, cutting into her thoughts. "She doesn't have to take his last name. Laura didn't take mine."

"We haven't really talked about it," James added, "it's all a pretty recent development so-."

"I'm taking his name," Melody announced, cutting across both men and she saw the effect of her words in each of their faces.

"You'd be Doctor Barnes then," Scott mused, "wouldn't that bug you? I mean, he didn't go to school for a decade to earn that title."

"It's sixteen years actually," James corrected him, glancing at Melody and appearing a bit like Doctor Stein had when he discovered the woman he'd been ignoring all day had been the same person he'd been looking for. "And he's right."

"Changing my name doesn't diminish my individual accomplishments," she replied, acutely feeling the slight weight of the ring on her hand, just as she'd done early that same morning. "And besides, I've always hated my last name." Melody grabbed her empty plate and glass from the table. The name itself wasn't hard to spell nor did people find it hard to pronounce, but it wasn't the word itself that she hated. It was everything attached to it. It was sharing a name with the monster who'd almost killed her. With a woman who let it happen. She'd expected to carry it around of the rest of her life, but now, she realized as she opened the dishwasher, barely hearing the chatter behind her that it wasn't like that anymore. She didn't have to share John's name anymore. The moment she was married, she wouldn't be Melody Frasier, she'd be Melody Barnes. The thought brought a smile to her face as she opened the dishwasher. It had taken even less time than she thought, to find something about this whole situation she was sure of, besides James. She had no set ideas about a wedding or anything in entailed, but she was sure of one thing; being Melody Barnes sounded really good to her. 


	70. Seventy

After about an hour, Bucky made his way outside onto the small terrace, the chatter of the impromptu engagement party continuing on inside. Clint and Sam were gone, but Scott and Wanda remained, conversing with Melody who was trying to explain why suturing grapes was normal. It wasn't going so well either from what Bucky could here.

"Hey pal," Steve's voice chimed behind him and there was a slam of a sliding glass door. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Steve's presence was one he could enjoy right now without being overwhelmed. Bucky liked the rest of the rouge heroes pretty well, but the last two days had been pretty intense and he wanted a bit of room to breathe. There was a scraping of  chair against the patio and Steve grunted as he sat down into the metal chair. 

"You get enough to eat?"

"Yeah, I did. Thanks for asking." Steve sighed. "You doing okay? You look tired."

"Just a lot to take in and not a lot of time to do it."

"You want us to leave?" 

"No, this is actually nice. Having all of us together to talk about something normal and happy instead of death and the end of the world. I'm just brooding." Bucky grinned in spite of himself. "I'm just...I still can't believe any of this. I know it's happening, I know it's real but it's not hitting me yet." He looked over his shoulder through the glass at Melody, she was no longer suturing, but handing the tool over to Scott who had an enthusiastic grin on his face while hers was skeptical. "I still have no idea how this happened. I don't know how I got so lucky." He looked away from the scene in the kitchen, still smiling but Steve didn't return it. "Steve?"

"Sorry," he shook his head, as though trying to clear something away. "I'm just distracted."

He didn't looked distracted, he looked sad, worn out. Bucky knew that look pretty well, he'd seen it plenty of times before when he looked in the mirror. "Are you okay? You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean."

"I'll be fine, I'm just..." Steve groaned, running a hand down his face. "The world has been a giant mess for me, for a really long time. First, it was the war, then it was going into the ice and waking up in a different century and then there was the aliens, S.H.I.E.L.D. falling, finding you and loosing you again, Ultron and more recently Zemo and-."

"And we're all fine," Bucky finished. "We're alive, we're safe and we're happy." 

"For now," he said flatly, "You and everyone else are alive, safe and happy for now."

"You're not happy?" Steve's exclusion of himself didn't go unnoticed. 

"I want to be," he admitted, slouching forwards and locking his hands together. "I should be, but I can't. All I can think about is that things are great, so when's the next evil thing going to fall out of the sky and wreck havoc?" His tone was biting with sarcasm and Bucky winced. "I'm too worried to be happy."

"I can tell and it's a little surprising." Steve gave him a look and Bucky shrugged. "If I would've had to guess, it would've been me worrying too much to be happy and you trying to cheer me up."

"Fair," Steve agreed after a moment. "So I have to ask; what's your secret? How are you staying so calm? Why aren't you waiting for the sky to fall?"

"Well," Bucky looked over his shoulder, back at Melody who'd departed from the table and started on the dishes while Scott was still attempting to suture fruit. "I guess I already had that moment." His blood turned cold thinking about it, that terrifying moment where he'd discovered that Melody had been shot and was in critical condition. "I almost lost her. Unless you start dying on me, nothing is ever going to be as scary as that was." He shrugged, "I already hit my ten."

"What?"

Bucky coughed realizing that expression would be lost on Steve. Or anyone who didn't spend a solid portion of their spare time with a doctor. "Um, doctors, they ask patients to rate their pain on scales one to ten, ten is the worst. Melody dying, that was my ten and you would be too." He shrugged, "Sorry, Melody talks medical all the time, I picked up a few things."

Steve gave him a half-hearted grin. "What else did you pick up?"

"I know the difference between a baseball stich and a purse-string stich, I know that the human body starts with two-hundred sixteen bones when we're born and drops to two hundred and six when we're adults and I can name a few of them too."

"How'd that happen? I mean the suture thing I get, she was just practicing that on fruit, but bones? How'd you pick up on that?"

Bucky laughed."Foreplay," he looked over at Steve for his reaction and he certainly wasn't disappointed by it. Despite his time in the army, he'd always been pretty shy and seventy years hadn't really changed that about him either. HIs face turned bright red and he hung his head, making an embarrassed sort of sound that he tried to play off as coughing. 

"How in the hell is that foreplay?"

"One might call it playing doctor."

"Bucky," Steve hid his shining face in his hands. "Shut up."

He snickered. "If that's what you want." 

"Oh it is," Steve ran a hand down his face, it was no longer beet red, but still pretty pink with embarrassment. "I love our little chats but I don't love hearing about your sex life."

"I never mentioned sex, just foreplay," Bucky grinned debating whether or not to get on the topic, just to see Steve's face change color again. He was sure his embarrassed friend was the only thing that could change colors faster than a chameleon. "But don't worry, I'll keep that to myself." Making Steve uncomfortable wasn't exactly a good way to cheer him up so it was time to switch topics. "You're my best man by the way."

"Really?"

"Don't look so surprised," he said dryly. "And you don't have to accept, I get that-."

"Don't be stupid," Steve's reply was just as quick, "of course I'll be your best man. Who else has enough embarrassing stories to tell about you in their speech?"

"True," Bucky smiled, "but remember I have even more on you." He winked and Steve groaned. "Hey, just a little reminder so you don't get _too_ carried away in your speech."

"After a few drinks I can't make any promises."

"Liar, you can't get drunk anymore. The serum took that away."

"I was hoping you forgot that," Steve admitted, "it would've been nice to have something to blame."

"I'm way less forgetful as of now," Bucky joked and Steve's grin dropped at the macabre joke. "Sorry, it sounded funnier in my head." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Steve, I know how you're feeling right now and given that I can safely say this; it gets better, but you have to help it along. You have to try and look for the good things, big and small, mostly small and it's exhausting but...It's the only way you'll be able to stop being afraid all the time and be happy."

"And how do I do that?"

"Writing things down can help," he said, echoing the advice Melody had given him so long ago. "Write down every good thing you find every day, when things are hard, read it. Remind yourself what's out there."

"Is that why you had that journal when I found you in Europe?" 

"Yep." It was one reason among three and one of them didn't exist anymore. "It helped me, maybe it can help you too. And if it doesn't then we'll find something that does."

"Won't you be busy with wedding planning?"

"Unlikely. I mean, I'm still a criminal so it's not like she can invite any of her former coworkers to the ceremony. Makes for pretty easy planning if the guest list is that limited. And even if that wasn't the case, you're my best friend and that's all there is to it. End of the line, remember?"

Steve smiled again, though the tiredness really didn't leave his face. "Yeah." Bucky grinned back at him and got out of his chair, "Come on let's-!"

A loud clang followed by a series of shouting voices cut him off and Bucky snapped his head towards the sliding door where he saw Wanda's white, horrified face as she leapt to her feet and Scott's expression similarly mirrored as he ran towards the sink. Bucky wasn't even conscious of moving, but he had, he realized as he made his way back inside to see his fiancé holding the sink with white knuckles, lips thin with pain and what looked like a surgical tool stabbed into her thigh. 

"Mel," Wanda exclaimed, brown eyes wide with horror. "I am so sorry! I was just practicing and the noise just-!"

"I need to get down to the lab," she interrupted, not  looking at the young woman. "I don't think this hit anything important but you never removed foreign objects until you know for sure." She looked down at the stainless steel tool with an expression more akin to curious interest then pain.  "Who's going to help me limp down there?"

"I've got you," Bucky said instantly, sweeping her into his arms, gritting his teeth at the feeling of blood on his fingers. "And there's no way in hell you're walking that far." 


	71. Seventy-One

Melody was no stranger to getting stitches,  but even so this time was a bit weird. She tied off the pitch black line and examined her handiwork in the mirror James was holding for her above the now closed wound. "It's good," she decided, "and I don't think I need to bandage this." She clipped a bit of the excess off with a straight mayo scissors; the exact same instrument Wanda had buried in her leg about a half hour before. The young woman was sitting silently in a chair now, white-faced and entirely silent. It had been an accident of course, Melody knew that, but still, the incident bothered her for one simple reason; it shouldn't have happened at all. It was not an accident born of outside factors, but of negligence. And that was something she'd never been good at tolerating from anyone, including herself. She planned to speak to Wanda about it when they were alone. 

"You're fast," Scott commented. The Ant-Man had insisted on accompanying Melody and James to the lab and he had been observing her suturing from the moment she'd removed the instrument from her thigh. 

"Practice," she replied. "Years and years of practice."

"And that was a baseball stitch?"

"No, purse-string."

"Which is?"

"It's a circular inversion that draws the two sides of the wound together and closes it, the closure," she made a sweeping gesture to her completed suture, "looks like a purse string."

"Gross but cool," the thin man nodded, furthering considering the thought. "You do that often?"

"Yep. But I do baseball sutures way more, they're not as secure since it's a continuous stitch but sometimes you don't have that sort of time." 

"What about that other one? The one your-I mean, the one that has the same name as you," Scott caught his near use of the word 'father' and his eyes went wide; so he either knew or had inferred part of her story.

"Frasier stitch is like a cross between the two," Melody said, her arm and chest burning with the memories. "Good for both internal and external wounds and very useful." She was far too familiar with the external part. "I hate it."

"You just said it was useful."

"When you have to hear 'look, I'm using you to stitch this guy's leg' ten times a week you'd hate it too. The joke get's old fast." And there was also the matter of John cuttign her open at dinnner and then practicing the suture on her, but she didn't want to bring that up. They'd all just eaten.

"Will you be able to walk on it?" Scott asked, Wanda finally looking up from the floor, still silent, but interested. Melody wasn't teh best at reading people, but she had a strong feeling that Scott had just asked the question on Wanda's mind. 

"More like limping than anything initally," she admitted, "but there hasn't been any lasting harm done. I'll be fine in a week." Wanda's litlte smile didn't go unnoticed by her either. Now was the best time to burst her bubble; yes, Melody was fine, but that was luck and she needed to be certain that Wanda knew it. All they needed was five minutes of alone time.

"James," she said, feigning innoence. "Would you mind heading back to the apartment? There's still blood on the floor and it needs to get cleaned up."

"I can take care of it once we get you back," he said, frowning at her. 

"Please," she threw a sort of frantic edge into her voice. "Just get rid of it," her voice dropped, softer, like she was afriad. "Please, I don't want to see it." She'd spent too many years scrubbing her blood out of kitchens and James's knew it. Seconds later, she saw understanding dawn in his eyes. "I'll take care of it," he promised. "Scott, can you-?"

"I can get myself back just fine, Scott, ignore my incredibly over-protective fiancé." The word felt strange on her tongue. She'd never used the word aloud before and the effect felt, inwardly like a bomb going off. Fiancé; a person she was going to marry. The thought made her head spin and she quickly let her mind lock onto something else, namely James's reaction.

James rolled his eyes though the glow of pride at her use of the term didn't go unnoticed by her. James was one of the few people she could read easily, he liked being referred to as her fiancé. The same way he liked the ring on her left hand. "You got shot twice last month and went into a coma and now-."

"And now I am fully recovered," she finished. "Recovered and perfectly healthy."

"What if that gets infected?" he pointed to her newly sutured leg.

"Then I will be taking a round of antibiotics, they've gotten very good in the last seven decades. Stop worrying."

James crossed his arm, metal glinting in the bright florescent lights. He mumbled something under his breath but Melody didn't catch it. Her attention had gone from James to Wanda. "If it hurts to walk don't be stupid and try and force yourself back to the apartment. I'll see you in a bit."

His lips brushed the top of her head and Melody felt  her toes curl involuntarily. The amount of power he had over her was completely unfair. James dipped behind the curtain and a second after he was gone, Scott turned to her. "If you want I can help you get back, just in case-."

"Thank you Scott," she said, "but that won't be necessary, just go. I might hang on in the sim for a bit, I'm itching to cut."

 Scott ducked out of the curtain, but before he left, he turned his head to face her. "You know how bad that sounds right? Saying you're eager to cut sounds really, really creepy."

"I don't mean it in a creepy way, I just really want to operate." She didn't know for sure if it was possible, but she was starting to think that she was experiencing withdrawals. She missed the OR, she missed it's sterile, better smell of the soap, the snap of her gloves on her hands, the trusty black scrub cap that had been passed onto her from her teacher, Doctor Eric McKinley, the cool, thin feeling of the scalpel in her hand-all of it. She missed it so badly and she was starting to have constant headaches from it. Or maybe it was psychosomatic, she didn't know for sure.

"That's cool and gross," Scott commented, "see you later Doc. Hope your leg feels better!" He gave her a jerky, awkward sort of wave and vanished from sight.

"Mel," Wanda's low voice reached her ears ten seconds later. "I am so, so sorry." She got up from her seat, a little color returning to her oval face. "I wasn't thinking and I just-I'm sorry, I am really, very sorry."

Now was her opening and Melody turned her head to look at the young woman. "Shut up." Her apologetic expression flattered into one of confusion, but she wasn't going to say anything. Melody was not going to allow it. "You're very powerful Wanda, you're very gifted and though I do not know you well, you seem like a good person. But you do not get to be sorry. You do not get to stand here and tell me you're sorry for the new scar you gave me because yes, this will scar and believe me, I do not need anymore. You were careless, you were thoughtless, you were unaware of your surroundings and I got hurt for it."

"I didn't mean-," the young woman tried, brown eyes flashing with pain and defiance. Melody knew the look well, she'd seen it before on interns and residents before when she'd given them this talk. But it didn't change her stance, this was something Wanda needed to hear. This was the third time she'd made this mistake. The first had been in Nigeria, when she'd accidentally sent a bomb up and into a building. She hadn't realized how close the building was when she sent up the explosion and the mistake, her lack of awareness of her surroundings had harmed people. It had been a terrible, terrible mistake and it should've been the only time it happened. But it wasn't. It had happened again, twice more and something had to be done before a fourth one hit. 

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me," Melody replied, "but it doesn't change the fact that you did. You're carelessness hurt me and four months ago it sent an arrow through Scott Lang's arm." Melody was not going to bring up the event that created the Accords, the Avenger would never heed her advice if she did. Her defenses would go up and block out her logic. "You were using your powers and you weren't paying close enough attention to what was around you and someone got hurt. Last time it was Scott, today it was me and the fact that none of it was fatal was pure luck. You do not get to be sorry, Wanda. You do not get to wallow in self-pity for your mistakes. The only thing you are allowed to be is better."

Melody let her words hang in the tense air and got on her feet, the numbing medication was starting to wear off and a dull throbbing went up her leg as she put a small bit of weight on it. She looked back at the Avenger, who was pale white and her eyes were shining with shock or unshed tears Melody had no idea but she didn't care. Wanda wasn't a surgeon, but she was certainly a type three, great and good. Or rather she could be, but she had to learn, she had to stop repeating the same mistakes over and over and sometimes, that lesson had to come in a painful way. Melody knew that well. She had no super powers, but she too was great at what she did. And the greater a person was, the more power and skill the had, the larger and more impacting their mistakes were. She'd made mistakes that had killed, mistakes that had drawn out into long, hard and painful processes and mistakes that had left people with disabilities and permanent conditions. She was only human and it happened. She could no predict everything and every case was always a little different from the one before it. Being perfect was impossible, but the same could not be said for doing better. For learning from mistakes and not repeating them in similar situations. Melody had learned to do it and now it was a lesson Wanda Maximoff needed to learn.

And as she walked away, the pathetic sound of whimpering told her that the learning process had begun to start. Only time would tell if it would last.


	72. Seventy-Two

Hours later, long after the impromptu party had dissolved all together and Melody had taken some Advil to help with the pain in her leg, they had settled in for the night. The jungle outside the many tall windows of the apartment a black tangle below them. Bucky wasn't asleep yet, nor was he especially tired; this had been one of the best days of his life. Melody, likewise, was not asleep either, but her eyes were closed, resting and he was pretty sure that she would be fast asleep very soon. She had that gift of being able to fall asleep anywhere and what was more, she could it very quickly. She laid on her side, face peaceful and relaxed, her left hand curled by her face on her pillow, the small white diamond on her ring shining dimly in the morning light. The sight made Bucky's heart grow three sizes in his chest. _She's going to be my wife,_ he thought, unable to keep a grin from forming on his face. She wanted to be his wife, wanted to be Melody Barnes.

Melody stirred, as though aware that she was being watched. "What?" she asked, but her gaze flickered where his own was resting and she smiled, figuring out the answer without his input. "You like that," she commented and Bucky ducked his head, blushing as he let his hand twine around hers, fingers just brushing the warm metal of her ring.

"More than you'll ever know." He titled his head, "I like that you want my name too, though I still think it's risky."

Melody shrugged. "I've considered the risks and I'd say their minimal."

She'd already presented him with the detailed analysis of the situation once already, right after she'd gotten back to the apartment and gotten off her wounded leg. She'd organized it, from how common the surname 'Barnes' was, as well as how there was no documentation of her ever getting near his known hideouts and having so many alibi's because she was always at work. He wasn't eager to hear it again, so for now he intended to let the matter drop. Besides, risky as Bucky still found her choice, he couldn't help but be pleased with the fact that she wanted to take his name. The tradition he knew had fallen a bit out of fashion since the nineteen hundreds, and he had assumed Melody would feel the same way, especially considering all the work she'd done to earn the title of "doctor". But he'd been wrong.  He was starting to think his assumptions about Melody and marriage were off. This was the second time she'd surprised him.

"I know it's early," he mused, "but I'm curious; are you completely opposed to a traditional wedding?" He couldn't see Melody wearing a white dress, veil and walking down an aisle towards him, but considering how Bucky had been wrong twice, he wanted to find out if he was going to be zero for three. 

"Define traditional?" 

"White dress, rings, vows-best man embarrassing me at the reception." He grinned, no doubt that Steve would have some very interesting stories to tell, provided that was the route they went. Bucky knew what he would've preferred, but he'd go along with whatever Melody wanted. How they got married didn't matter to him nearly as much as the fact that they'd be husband and wife when it was over. He could let go of his old-fashioned notions if that was what she wanted.

Melody considered that, absent-mindedly running her fingers over the ring. "I don't know," she said after several moments. "Like I told you, I've never really thought about all this before. I don't know how I feel about any ceremony, traditional or otherwise."

Bucky rolled closer to her, sliding his metal arm over her waist. The pressure of her body underneath it registered dimly with the sensors. The subtle sensation made him grin. The arm before had not been able to give him that so this, being able to feel her under his touch, however vague was a miracle. "We don't have to do anything crazy, honestly, we could just sign a license and be done with it if that's what you want."

"That isn't what you want," she noted, the statement not a question, but an observation. 

"No," he admitted. Bucky didn't want to put any pressure on her, but he wasn't going to be dishonest either. "It's not."

"You're a bit old fashioned," she commented, a hint of a laugh in her voice. 

"You don't have to decide anything now," he assured her, lifting himself up enough to kiss her cheek before he snuggled closer to her. "And whatever you decide, I'll go with it. You could marry me in your scrubs and I wouldn't care."

"Now that's an idea," she laughed for real this time. "Or maybe a trauma gown with a bouquet of surgical tools."

"Those things are sharp," he commented, "might not be the best of for a bouquet since you're supposed to throw it at the end."

"Really?"

"Yeah, old wives superstition," he explained, vaguely aware of the  irony that came with him explaining wedding traditions."Whatever woman catches the bouquet is supposedly the next one to get married."

"What idiot came up with that?" she asked, disbelief coloring her voice as she threw her hands up. "Who in their right mind can think catching a bundle of flowers has any influence on major life changes?"

"Like I said," Bucky laughed at her reaction. The genuine confusion and indignation on her face at the possibility of people putting stock in the ritual was  hilarious.  "It's just a superstition, not everyone can be so logical Nightingale." He squeezed her a little tighter, teasing, "some of us normal people have certain rituals that we think bring us luck."

"Hey," she defended herself. "I have some of those moments too."

"Oh?" Bucky grinned, "And what might that be?"

"All my scrub caps are the same," she told him, smiling. "I don't like to operate without wearing my own caps, just feels wrong. I know, logically that it doesn't influence how well the surgery goes or not, but still. Considering it's life or death I'd rather not take the chance."

"Is that all?"

"No, I have no more."

"Which is?" Bucky prompted, noting her embarrassment at her admission. She had no business being this cute and  yet here she was. 

"Never, under any circumstances say 'it's slow' when you're working the ER. The moment you do, something is going to go to hell somewhere and you'll be flooded with incoming traumas and sick people." She shook her head, "I swear, that is what happens every single time. It's freaky."

Bucky laughed again. "Well, I do have one superstitious tradition I want to follow on our wedding day."

"Oh? Which one?"

"The day of, I'm not allowed to see you until the ceremony. It's bad luck." 

"Says who?"

"Some old crone, but either way," Bucky pressed a kiss against the back of her neck. "I don't want to jinx it. Between the two of us, we have really bad luck and I'd hate to jinx it."

"Never took you for the superstitious type." 

"It's not just superstition," he adjusting his hold carefully, though she'd taken some Advil already, he had a feeling the over the counter drugs wouldn't stop the wound sight from being sensitive. Bucky wasn't going to hurt her by being careless. That had already happened once today and he was not eager to see it done again, least of all by him. The moment he'd seen the gaping hole in Melody's leg, it had taken a decent amount of self-control not to yell at Wanda for her carelessness. It had almost been a relief when Melody had sent him away, asking him to clean up the mess before she got back. He wasn't sure how much longer he could've held out.

"What else is there?" she asked curiously and Bucky frowned. He wasn't sure he wanted to answer that; he feared it would put too much pressure on Melody. The truth was that yes, he did want to a do a more traditional wedding-that had always been his idea of what it was supposed to look like. Time hadn't really changed that ideal either. He wanted to see Melody in a long white dress and he wanted the first time he saw that image to be when he walked down the isle towards him. Telling her that, however seemed foolish-he didn't want to pressure her, make her feel obligated to go the traditional route if that wasn't what she wanted. So with that in mind, Bucky opted for a smaller truth.

"Just how I was raised," he replied. "I'm over a hundred years old, I grew up in a different time." He snorted, "Sam is going to make cradle-robbing jokes when he gets over his shock, I'm sure of it." Bucky had a strange relationship with Sam, they argued just as often as they got along. 

"I would've guessed he would go for how I'm the doctor and you're the arm candy."

Bucky groaned. He hadn't thought of that. "Oh shit, don't mention that to him, hopefully he won't think about it. Scott with join in and I'm no match for two of them together."

"My lips are sealed," she promised and Melody yawned again. 

"You're tired."

"I've been tired since med school, it's a chronic state."

Bucky grabbed the covers and pulled them higher around her and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight." 

"Love you," she muttered, already drifting off and Bucky shook his head. Some things never changed. Bucky finally closed his eyes and it wasn't long before he fell asleep.

***

Bucky awoke to the sound of screaming; this time, they weren't in his head. He turned over and saw Melody beside him, sitting upright, legs drawn to her chest, back hunched over in pain. In his sleepy state it took Bucky a second to realize she'd never been screaming, she'd been weeping. "Melody," he mumbled through tired lips, "what's wrong?" He shifted closer to her, but knew better than to touch her. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," she said in a small voice, burying her face in her knees. "I'm fine, just go back to sleep."

"You're not fine," Bucky said flatly, sitting up as well. "And what else besides a nightmare would upset you this much? What happened? Talk to me." Seeing that she was more alert now, Bucky slowly edged his hand towards her, he made the motion obvious so she could draw away or tell him no in plenty of time. 

"I didn't have a nightmare," Melody said again, her voice stronger  as she lifted her head, tear tracks glistening on her face in the pale light of the moon. 

"Then why are you crying?" Bucky's fingers brushed her back, the warmth of her skin radiating through the fabric of her shirt. When she didn't drawn away, he drew closer, sliding his arm entirely around her waist so he could hold her. "You can tell me." Melody leaned into him instantly, breathing hard and with his other hand, he started to stroke her snarly hair. Having two arms again was a nice thing indeed. 

She took a shaky breath and he felt her shift, burying her face in his shoulder. "I miss Sharon."

Bucky's worry evaporated on the spot. "I know you do." He hadn't seen Sharon Carter since their conversation in the garden a week ago. She hadn't been to see him after the success they'd finally had getting Hydra removed from his head. There was no way she couldn't have known, the good news had spread like wildfire around the place. He could only think of one reason why she hadn't been with everyone else this morning to celebrate; it would've meant having to see Melody too.

"I was dreaming about our wedding," she continued, her voice low. "I don't remember much but I remember being up there with you and seeing her face in the crowd. I realized I was dreaming because...Because she won't be there anymore." Her voice broke. "She's _always_ been there; undergrad, med school, internship, residency and boards-she was there. And now I'm getting everything I ever wanted and she's not here."

"You said you never thought about getting married," Bucky remarked, confusion mixing with the sympathy inside him. 

"T'challa offered me a job," Melody replied, "at South Central, a teaching hospital in the capitol. He wants to make me the head of the trauma department. And he's reprograming the sim like I suggested; he wants my help with that as well before he implements a pilot program at the hospital."

"Melody," Bucky grinned, temporarily hoping the talk of medicine would lift her spirits like it usually did. "That's great!" But the pride and joy swelling inside his ribs deflated a little bit after a minute. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I haven't give an answer yet," she replied. "It's a pretty recent development. It happened yesterday, before you came into the lab."

That answered that question. "I suppose that's quite a bit to swallow and then everything with me and you."

"Yeah."

"It's a wonder you're head isn't spinning," Bucky remarked, noting that her hair was getting a bit softer now. His constant touching had worked out of some of the knots. 

"When he died," she whispered, "when I learned what I could do. I was horrified and I still am. But I knew I couldn't just bury that part of myself, once it was out, it wasn't going back and I knew it. Even as a kid I knew that." Melody sighed and huddled closer to Bucky, shivering. "And after that, all I wanted was to save lives. It's all I ever wanted. Being a surgeon gave me that, but I knew it was only temporary. Not soon, but eventually, my eyes will get weak, my hands won't work like they used to and I won't be able to cut anymore. I've always known that. That was why I wanted to be a part of something, a study, a clinic trial; something that would impact medicine as a whole. Something to save lives, even when I couldn't operate anymore. And T'challa is offering me both. The only two things I ever wanted. And now," her arms slid around him, holding tight. "I'm getting married, something I never even thought about and I'm _happy_. I didn't know I could be this happy."

She started to cry again, tears dampening his t-shirt. "Nightingale," Bucky whispered, his voice hoarse, unsure of what to say or do. Maybe because he knew what was coming next and there was no cure.

"She's my family, the only family I've ever known and I wish she was here. I want her to be part of all this and she's not." Melody clung to him, shaking as she cried into his shoulder. "I miss Sharon."

"I know," Bucky whispered, holding her closer, shifting so that she could lay her head on his chest. The position he knew, would be more comfortable than what she was currently doing. He knew her tears wouldn't stop, there was nothing he could say to ease her pain. All Bucky could do was hold her, remind her that she wasn't alone. And he knew, even as she clung to him, crying and mourning the loss of her friend that it would never be enough. This wasn't a wound he or anyone else could heal. 


	73. Seventy-Three

Melody awoke later that morning, her eyes dry and itchy. No doubt from all the crying she'd done the night before. She groaned, self-loathing moving like poison through her veins. _I owe him an apology,_ she thought, scowling. He'd been so happy the other day and of course she'd ruined that for him by waking up in hysterics. She turned over towards his side of the bed, but was disappointed to see that he was gone, a note on his pillow. 

Melody reached for it and saw, written in his neat scrawl, the answer to why he was gone. _With Steve, be back soon. Breakfast is in the fridge, eat it.  Love you,_ She looked at the note a moment grinning. He'd done something similar back when they'd first met, always making her breakfast or packing a lunch for her before she left for work. The memory made her feel a bit lighter, a nice contrast from how she'd felt upon waking up. Keeping the note in her hand, Melody threw the covers off her legs and got up. She winced as the soles of her feet touched the floor, the hardwood was generally smooth, but it needed to be swept. She'd take care of that, but first, she wanted breakfast. Her empty stomach was gurgling, voicing it's need for food. 

She opened the fridge and sure enough, a bowl of fruit was inside and she smiled. Grabbing that, she picked up a halved strawberry and popped it into her mouth, the sweet fruit bursting in her mouth. Melody grabbed a fork and sat at the table, barely tasting the assorted fruit and vanilla yogurt that James had assembled for her. It wasn't that it was bad, but her mind was too full to process that. T'challa's job offer, her dream the night before and the crushing loss she'd felt upon waking up where swirling around in her head like a storm. 

She knew, in her heart of hearts what she wanted. Melody wanted to answer the monarch and tell him yes. She wanted to be back at a hospital, she wanted the chaos of the ER, she wanted a scalpel in her hand and she wanted to cute. She wanted to be a surgeon again. T'challa didn't know all of her past, but he was a smart, observant man. Melody had witnessed this time and again, he had to know that when she'd told him she was not good and never would be he had to know what she meant. 

 _I'll talk with him soon,_ Melody decided, scrapping a bit of granola off the bottom of the bowl. _I have to tell him I want the job._ It was wrong to deceive him, wrong to hide something so crucial, especially considering who he was dedicating this to but Melody wasn't that strong. So long as she was able, she _had_ to save lives. That unfeeling place had been discovered under terrible circumstances and it's first use had been to kill, but in and of itself, that place wasn't evil. It was merely a tool. Same as a gun. Only harmful depending on what a person decided and Melody had made her choice twenty years ago. She'd decided the moment she saw John's corpse thrashing on the bed. She'd decided never again to take a life, she'd decided to save them. She couldn't walk away from that commitment anymore than she could cut off her right hand with a dull knife.

Melody sighed and tossed her spoon into the now empty bowl, her stomach no longer growling. _Maybe I'll talk with him today, I suppose he's heard about the engagement by now. Best get that out of the way._ The hubbub over the matter of her and James getting married had left her feeling pretty flustered. Getting married didn't really seem like an accomplishment and yet that was what everyone seemed to be treating it as. The door clicked open and Melody decided to tell James about it. How, if they were to do a ceremony, she didn't want anything formal or ornate. She was barely handling the celebrations already, a formal event might make her hyperventilate. 

"Hey James-" she turned, ready to disappoint him but the words died in her throat. It wasn't James that had come into the apartment. It was Sharon. Melody looked away instantly, but it wasn't fast enough. Pain shot through her, hot and fast just like a bullet. No, not even that. The bullet was nothing compared to this. 

"What did you say to Wanda? She's really upset." Sharon's voice was stern and firm, not yet angry but it was only a matter of time. 

"I said what she needed to hear; if she doesn't like it that's her problem." No one had ever reacted well to her "you don't get to be sorry" speech. It was something no liked to hear, but it didn't change the fact that it needed to be said. It made her interns and residents better doctors when they took it to heart and it would make Wanda a better...well whatever she was should she choose to listen.

"She's been crying on and off since last night."

Melody tried to ignore the twinge of guilt at hearing that.  "I gave her some solid teaching whether or not she wants to follow it is up to her."

"She's not one of your residents," was the harsh reply and Melody winced. Sharon was right. She'd messed up. Her residents knew her teaching style, didn't always like it, but they knew it wasn't personal. Wanda would have no such knowledge. She wouldn't see Melody's remarks as lessons from a tough teacher, she'd see them as a social acquaintance tearing her apart in a cold, cruel way.

"No," she agreed, "she's not." _And I'll need to seek her out later today,_ she thought. _I owe her an apology._ "And I should have done better but she's still one of the good ones and she'll never reach her potential unless she learns to-."

"What not make mistakes? Everyone makes mistakes! No one is perfect." A strange note entered Sharon's' voice as she stated that. 

"I didn't mean that she had to be perfect," Melody said, tears stinging her eyes. Had Sharon thought she was perfect? Without darkness? Was she really so blind? "She can make a hundred mistakes, she can make thousands for all I care. She just needs to stop making the same ones over again. Mistakes are fine, repeated mistakes are not."

Sharon didn't reply for several minutes, the silence stretching between them like wire. Any moment now it was going to snap and hurt them both. "Is that what John was to you?  A mistake?"

There it was. Melody winced, feeling the words like a physical blow. "No," she said softly. "Mistakes are unintentional."

There was a shifting noise behind her. "I chase terrorists. I chase people who have no regard for human life and before that I chased sleeper agents who wouldn't hesitate to wreck havoc across an entire country. They do what they want and they don't feel any regret over it."

"Are you here to arrest me?" Melody asked, cutting across Sharon. Better to get that out of the way now. "Because I don't advise that, there's no record of my arrival here in Wakanda, you won't be able to explain how you found me without incriminating T'challa and everyone else."

"You thought of everything," Sharon remarked, her voice unnaturally cold and goosebumps rose across Melody's arm. "Planned out every step. How long did that take? Did it start before or after the shooting?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Because I'm wondering if it took you longer to plan a murder or an escape."

Melody winced again, fiery pain shooting down her back, just like a belt buckle ripping across her skin. The ghost of those memories warmed her skin, fading to from agony to a dull ache as a reminder of the things she could never forget. "Murder took longer," she answered stiffly. "I had to practice my aim first."

Sharon took a sharp breath behind her. Melody could already picture her stricken face hearing that but she couldn't look. All she could picture now was the way she'd looked three weeks prior and Melody couldn't see it again. It would destroy her again. Be another ten. "Why? Was Plan A to be a Sniper and shoot him from behind?"

"No, Plan A was exactly what happened. Plan B was more long-distance." Even as a child, Melody had been able to think ten steps ahead of what she was doing. Think and act at the same time. Her plan had always been to kill John while he slept, catch him unawares so he couldn't retaliate. She knew in a battle of strength she would've lost and so she planned to take away that significant advantage. Even with that in place, Melody had also been aware that plans could go wrong and so she'd opted to have a back-up. She'd practiced her aim, throwing pebbles at tin cans and later, practicing with an airsoft rifle she'd traded for at school and hidden in the clearing. She'd never missed one shot.

"How many other plans did you have?"

"One involved poison." The gun had been her preferred method. Poisons had antidotes, but bullets to the head were much harder to cure.

"Turn around and look at me."

"What?"

"Turn around," Sharon repeated, though much louder than before. "And _look_ at me. Look at me and tell me that again." 

Melody tried to swallow the lump in her throat and slowly moved. Sharon's face was white, but she wasn't looking away. Not like last time. "Plan A was to shoot him while he slept and make it look like he did it, if he woke up when I tried, Plan B was to empty the clip into his chest. If I couldn't get the gun, my next bet was household cleaners into his food or drink. I never fleshed that one out since I was able to get into the safe and steal his gun."

Sharon closed her eyes, her jaw tense. "Nothing," she said, more to herself then to Melody. "Not a damn thing."

"What exactly are you looking for? For me to tell you it was a lie?"

"No," her eyes gleamed hard, like stone. "For remorse. I wanted to see remorse, but there's none of that in you. Not even a little."

 "I know I should be sorry, but I can't be." She shrugged, the energy draining out of her body. "I hate him. I will always hate him and his death meant that I got to live. I will never regret that. But," she took a deep breath, chest tightening with the grief she'd locked up for decades. "I regret that it had to go that far, I regret that I had to be the one pulling the trigger, I regret that when he died, I did too. Any part of me that believed in people, that trusted others was killed. Whatever was left of the child I was, she died. I wish someone would've protected her. I regret that no one did. I regret that I became the person I am now. I wish I didn't know how twisted I am. But I can't turn back the clock, I only get to go forward and be better than I was."

Sharon didn't look away but Melody saw tears brim in her eyes. She'd seen tears shed before, by patients after delivering terrible news, but that had never been anywhere near as horrible as this. Maybe because it had never been so personal. "You saved Michael Rollin, a murderer because you said it wasn't your job to decide if he deserved to die. Was that true?"

"Yes," she shook her head. She hadn't thought about that case in years. Deciding to walk into the OR that day had been on the hardest choices she'd ever made. "I meant that."

"I know you did."

Melody frowned. "Then why did you ask me if you knew the answer?"

"Because I don't get it," Sharon said, throwing her hands down and her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. "I don't get _you._ Not anymore."

"I know." Melody looked away, the sutures on her heart throbbing. She'd found the strength to pull herself out of the abyss, to open her mouth and speak because James needed her. She'd put herself back into some semblance of a human being, but if she looked at Sharon's face any longer, saw more of those barely held-back tears, she'd break again. Sharon was in pain and it was her fault. She'd done this to her. To both of them with her dishonesty, cowardice and the stains on her soul. 

"I chase madmen, I chase murderers who kill without remorse. They don't care who they hurt so long as they get what they want. And now..." Sharon trailed off and Melody pressed a hand to her chest, half expecting to feel blood underneath her hands. Her heart was breaking again.

"And now you know I'm one of them." She finished, throat so tight she could barely get out the words. 

"No."

Melody turned around, shock numbing the pain in her chest. "What?"

Tears streamed down Sharon's face. "You're not one of them. They kill and they want to. You killed and you had to. There's a difference, but." Sharon wiped her tears way on the back of her hand and took a shaky breath. "Who are you? The remorseless, no feeling killer or the surgeon who fights to save whoever she can? Which are you? I've been trying for weeks to figure it out and I'm coming up blank." She shrugged, more tears carving a path down her flushed cheeks. "I don't know which one you are. I don't know who you are so if you could help me out, that'd be great."

Melody sighed, fingers toying with the ring on her left hand. She was still getting used to having it. A simple answer but still one she hated. "They're both me."

"You're not good," Sharon remarked and Melody winced. She knew it was true, but hearing it come of Sharon's mouth, someone who'd once thought the world of her was hard. 

"I told you that," she remarked."I told you I wasn't good. I have told you that over and over again-."

"Yeah and I just thought that your shitty self-esteem coming through," was the biting reply, tears still streaming down her face. She didn't even try to wipe them away."You could never accept a compliment, not like that."

"And now you know why and," Melody tried to breathe deeply, but it felt like her lung were collapsing. "I won't try to apologize, I know that I did something unforgivable. I know I hurt you. And I won't blame you if you hate me or-."

"What? Never want to talk to you again?" Sharon finished, glaring at her.

"Yeah, that." She was glad her friend knew her so well, she wasn't sure that was a sentence she could've finished. Not talking to Sharon for three weeks was hard, a lifetime would be even worse. "It's okay, I understand." _I deserve it._

Sharon scowled and dropped her arms. "You moron."

"Excuse me?" She turned her head, looking to see if there was someone else behind her. Melody was many things, but she'd never been stupid. 

"For a surgeon, you're a moron." Sharon said, voice cracking as she cried. 

"I'm a great many things." _A liar, a murderer, a surgeon._ "But I am not a moron." 

"Then why the hell didn't you get out the way?' Sharon demanded, speaking through clenched teeth, hands on her hips. "Why didn't you move when that kid came in?"

"I knew why he was there," Melody replied. Finally, an easy question to answer. "I had to stop him. I knew how his story would end if he did what he came to do and I couldn't let that happen. It wasn't too late for him. Someone had to save him."

"Was that all you were thinking about?" Her was quiet then, a curious change from her demanding tone a moment before. "Him? Did you even consider that he could kill you?"

"It was an accident, he didn't mean to shoot me."

"But he did. He did shoot you and you died."

"No, I didn't." Melody corrected, "I was in a critical condition for a while but-."

"No," Sharon glared at her, "you _did_ die." Her voice broke again and she blinked, her eyes reddened by her tears. "I showed my badge when I got the hospital and they let me into the gallery. I saw them operate. As soon as they closed, your heart stopped beating.  You were _dead_ for five minutes before they could bring you back."

"I didn't know that," she admitted. It made sense though, the strain on her body from the injuries, the loss of blood-all those factors together made it highly likely that she would've crashed during treatment.

 "I watched you die," Sharon said and Melody noticed she was trembling from head to foot. "You died on that table." A sob burst out of her then and before Melody had a chance to process that, she moved, running towards her and throwing her arms around her torso. "You can't die." Sharon wept, whining into her shoulder. "I can't stop talking to you, you're Mel." 

"I'm not who you thought I was." Melody said, speaking through numb lips, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing. Dimly, she tasted salt. Was she crying? "I lied to you, I lied for years."

"Because you were scared. You had to fight for your life and saying something meant you could've lost everything you'd worked for. You were scared I'd leave." Sharon, if possible held her even tighter and Melody felt her lower back pop. "That's why you didn't say anything. I'm so sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Melody asked, finding her voice through her confusion.  Sharon had done nothing wrong. Everything she'd done was a rational response to pain. The first and foremost reaction of any living thing when confronted with pain was to get away from the source and in this case, it was her best friend who'd lied to her for years. 

"You needed me," Sharon replied, still not letting go. "You were scared to lose me and I should've seen that. I shouldn't have told you to leave, I should've told you I still loved you and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Sharon I can't breathe," Melody gasped and the iron grip around her chest loosened.

"Sorry," she replied, rubbing Melody's arms in a reassuring way. The same way she always did, usually after Melody had lost a patient. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I am so, so sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong." Melody replied, swallowing hard. "I did. I was a terrible friend to you, I lied-."

"Yeah, I know you lied." Sharon interrupted. "But you weren't a terrible friend, you were terrified and did what you thought you had to."

"I still did it."

"Actions matter," Sharon said, smiling though a few stray tears were still leaking down her face. "But motive does too. Why you do what you do matters. That's part of us too. Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons doesn't make you a terrible person, it makes you human." 

"Is that criminal psychology?" 

"Part of prosecution." Sharon corrected. "Why someone does what they did can lessen the severity of their sentence." She let go, grabbing Melody's hands with her firm, reassuring grip. "No court will convict you for John's murder. Not with what he was."

"I'm not going to go to court Sharon." 

"Mel," she began firmly,  "I know you're scared, but I promise, I will get you through this. I have three of the best lawyers in the world on my cell phone. You will never see the inside of a prison for this, I promise."

"I'm not going to court," Melody said again, "because as far as the rest of the world is going to know, I wasn't the one who shot him. The Winter Solider did."

Sharon blinked. "What?"

"James offered to take the credit for what I did." Well begged her was more accurate but she wasn't going to say that. That was their business. "He's done so much already, one more name can't do any harm to his reputation."

"John's might improve it," Sharon remarked, eyes flashing the same way a knife did when it caught light. "But Mel, are you sure about that? The proof of what that bastard was is written all over your body-no offense." Her face paled for a moment, fearful but then her expression became business-like again. Sharon wasn't as good as her as staying calm in a hard situation, but she wasn't that bad keeping her cool either.  "I don't say that to hurt you, I'm just saying there is no denying how desperate your situation was. And Moira is a witness, she can testify to what happened."

"I doubt she'd do anything in my defense if she knew I was the reason she became a widow. She loved him." Sharon gave her a blank look and Melody sighed. "I know, I still don't believe it either, but it's the truth. I'm going with my original plan, I just don't want you to tell anyone else. The more people who know-."

"The more people could let it slip and ruin your life," Sharon finished and Melody smiled. One of the things she loved about Sharon, when things were bad, she didn't mince words. Some called it blunt, Melody called it common sense. There was no time to waste on pretty words when things were shitty. "I don't think you're plan is the best one," she admitted, "but it's your call. I won't say anything."

"Really?"

"People are alive because you were able to practice medicine and I'm one of them." Melody's stomach turned; even if she lived to be as old as Peggy, she would never, ever forget that day. "Take away your license and you can't do that anymore and I really think that more people will die because of it." Sharon's eyes got that dangerous look again, sharp as a blade. "And if he wasn't already dead I'd probably kill him myself."

 _If he was alive, I would never have seen my thirteenth birthday._ Melody thought, a cold feeling settling across her skin. She wasn't going to say that aloud however, so she opted for another truth. "I think James would've beaten you to it already."

Sharon nodded. "Fair. Okay so in the interest of security, this stays between you, me and Bucky . That's okay. But that's it, no more secrets. You have to have people, Mel, and you can't have people if you don't trust them."

"I trust you."

"You have to trust more than just me. And Bucky," she added hastily and a bewildered grin came to her face. "I still can't get used to the fact that he's your boyfriend. And I'm still trying to process that, but I've never heard you talk about a guy that way so I am going to be supportive, so long as you are happy and he treats you well."

Melody wondered how long that supportive angle was going to last when she heard this latest development. She pulled her left hand out of Sharon's grasp, feeling the weight of her newly acquired ring more acutely. "He's not my boyfriend, he's my fiancé."


	74. Seventy-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the delay! I didn't have access to my laptop for a few days! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Sharon stared at the ring and her eyes dashed between the jewelry and Melody's face. "Are you serious?"

This was going far better than she'd expected. No swearing yet. "Yes."

"How?" The sentence was half-formed and her expression was bewildered. Melody had seen that look before, but only in patients who'd been hit over the head with a blunt object. Her gaze was unfocused, her speech impaired and she a bit unsteady on her feet. Noticing this, she led her friend to the nearby table and sat her down before answering the question.

"You probably already heard, but the lab, they finally did it. James's is out of Hydra's grasp for good." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth that hadn't been there a second before. "And right after he told me that, he asked me to marry him and I said yes. Pretty straightforward."

Sharon's gaze was glued to the ring again. "You were probably really confused with the dropping to one knee thing." She frowned. "How'd he get at ring?"

"Completely," she agreed. She ha not recognized what James was doing, nor realized where his little monologue had been leading. Social cues had never been a strong point of hers. "And it was his mother's, Steve had it in his possession when James fell off the train and returned it and other belongs to him a few months ago."

Sharon seemed to smile in spite of herself. "That's sweet." The smile faded. "You're engaged." She said slowly and Melody nodded.

"Yep."

"To Bucky Barnes."

"Yep," Melody toyed with her ring, she was still getting used to having it. She'd never been a jewelry person. 

"I'm confused." Sharon sighed and laid her head on the table. "I'm really confused."

"Why? What's confusing?" Sharon knew how she felt about James and had also recently had a coworker who'd gotten engaged themselves. She was familiar with the institutions of love and marriage. 

"It's you," she answered, sitting upright again and fixed Melody with a contemplative gaze. "It's you that's throwing me off."

"That's a common consensus. Sam said the same thing. And according to James, Steve had a similar reaction too when he found out what he was planning."

"Yeah," Sharon ran her hands through her hair. "I mean, you don't change your mind often."

"Change my mind?"

"Yeah, don't you remember? You and I were riding the bus after you got off work and we got on the topic of how your constant working would prevent you from ever finding a husband and you told me you didn't want to get married." Melody blinked. Now that Sharon had brought it up, the day came back to her. The exhaust fumes of the packed bus, the city lights blazing by in the windows, Sharon's laugh as she poked at her ribs, saying she'd never meet interesting guys if she was always stuck in a skills lab. 

"You remember that?" She asked, amazed that Sharon remembered that. It had been ten years ago, when she'd been a surgical intern at West Memorial. 

"That's not exactly a light statement Mel." Sharon replied. "Of course I remember it." She toyed with a bracelet on her wrist. "And now you're getting married. You changed your mind."

"I had inaccurate data on the topic," Melody explained, "My idea of marriage and love where John and Moira and I didn't want that. I was wrong. I know that now." 

Sharon scowled, her knuckles turning white as she had a death-grip on her forearms. It was a wonder that she wasn't crying out in pain. "That's not love," she agreed tersely. "Bucky teach you that?"

"Yes," she answered. James had taught her what romantic love was supposed to be. "When he left me two years ago. That's when I figured it out."

"That sounds backwards. Explain."

"He left me to keep me safe; he chose me." 

Sharon gave her a small grin. "That's...that's a good example of what love is supposed to be."

"I learned what family was from you," Melody added, sensing that Sharon had been hurt by that comment. "When I fell asleep in the library and didn't come back to our dorm."

"You did that all the time," Sharon told her dryly. "That was your average Friday night."

"The first time that happened," she clarified, wincing. She had never been good with words and this was more proof of the fact. "The first time it happened, you called campus security to look for me. You went out on your own too, trying to find me and when I came home the next day, you weren't happy with me and made me promise to tell you where I was from now on."

"Yeah," Sharon shifted again, "that's what your supposed to do."

"After you got done lecturing me about the dangers of wandering around at night without anyone knowing where I was, you smiled at me and told me you where glad I was safe. I realized that was what family was supposed to be-even if they were mad, scared, sad or whatever  you don't stop caring. You care, no matter what. I learned that from you."

"That's true," Sharon remarked. "That you don't stop caring I mean." She looked a tad uncomfortable, given the shifting her legs and her constant toying with the bracelet on her wrist. She always fidgeted when she felt out of place. 

Melody saw her chance to open up and ask a question. She was fairly confused herself. "Is that why you came here?" she asked. "Because you believe that?"

Sharon crossed her arms and tilted her chair back off the floor. Melody tried not to wince, anytime she saw anyone do that she got nervous. That careless pose could turn into a one-way ticket to the ER in a span of three seconds. "Bucky showed up at my apartment this morning."

"Oh shit." Melody closed her eyes. She loved James more than she thought possible, but he wasn't always rational. Especially when it came to protecting her from perceived dangers. Emotional and physical alike. "Sharon, I am so sorry. Whatever he said-."

"It wasn't bad. Not like the last time we talked." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "He said if I wanted you out of my life, I needed to make up my mind. Severe ties and be done with it."

"You decided not to, why? You haven't forgiven me. You're still mad."

"No," Sharon corrected, the legs of her chair creaking. Or perhaps it was Melody's imagination. Either way, she would feel far more secure when Sharon had her chair back on the ground. "I'm not mad anymore. But I am still hurt and I don't know if I will ever be able to trust you again."

_ Still better than I deserve,  _ Melody thought. "But you're still here."

"You died on that table."

"You told me that." She didn't find that fact nearly as disturbing as Sharon did. She'd seen the phenomena of coding in similar cases. it was part of her normal. And what was more, she'd been aware that she was dying that day. The places she'd been wounded didn't allow for other possibilities. 

"I watched you die, knowing how much you'd lied to me and when I saw the monitor flat-line, none of it mattered.  I was still angry and hurt but having to face the prospect of never being able to talk to you again was worse. And when Bucky told me to cut you out of my life, it hit me again."

Sharon sighed and legs of her chairs wobbled. Melody's self-restraint cracked. "Please put your chair back on the ground. Do you have any idea how many-?"

"Patients wind up in your ER with slashes in their heads because of leaning their chairs back?" Sharon finished, rolling her eyes and leaning forward so that the legs of her chair slammed back onto the floor. "I don't have exact numbers, but I figure it's pretty high. Happy?"

"Yes," Melody answered. "I've never been this happy." 

Sharon looked up at her, eyes twinkling. "You sound a little sappy." She wrinkled her nose, "I'm happy your in love, but please, please don't turn into a sap. I don't think I can handle that." 

Melody laughed. "I don't think that is something you'll have to worry about. I've never been a romantic."

"You might be more of one than you think," Sharon remarked, toying with her bracelet again. "You're taking an awful risk, marrying him. I know you love him, I'm not saying that it's a bad thing. I'm just saying that he's the Winter Solider and a lot of people want him dead."

"He told me the same thing when I said I was taking his last name."

"What?"

"I'm taking his last name," she repeated. "And just like having James as a permeant fixture in my life, I am aware that it contains risks but I think they're minimal compared to what I'm getting out of it."

"I understand the benefits of having him around, but how does the last name come into play?"

"Because I currently share a name with someone who had no qualms about beating me to death." Sharon winced and Melody cursed inwardly. There had been a much better way to say that and only now, after the words were out did she see that. "Sorry. I don't mean-."

"Did that happen?" she asked, voice deathly quiet. "I know he stabbed you but, stabbing isn't the same thing..."

"The worst I got for a beating was when he broke my leg."

"You said you fell out of a tree."

"He threw me down the stairs."

Sharon bowed her head. "My God..."

"It's over," Melody said firmly. "There's nothing anyone can do now."

"Someone should've done something," Sharon replied, hand clenching into a fist. "What happened to you should never have happened."

"It shouldn't have but it's over and it's been over for almost twenty years. There's nothing to be done now. But," she bent her head, biting in the inside of her cheek. "There are bad things I can correct."

"And by that you mean Wanda?" Sharon guessed. "You have her the 'you can't be sorry' speech. That doesn't go over with people who know how to translate Mel-speak."

"I know that. I made a mistake, now I need to be better. Do you know where I can find her?"


	75. Seventy-Five

"So," Steve began sliding a cup of coffee in Bucky's direction. He didn't try to reach it, his hands were still shaking. "That was...interesting."

"Does 'interesting' mean I treated her like crap again?" He had apologized during their latest interaction, but if he'd just behaved the same way again, that really rendered the whole apology null and void.

"No." Steve replied and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just wondering what made you decide to come here and talk with Sharon again."

"It's Melody," he replied, finally grabbing his coffee, the ceramic of the glass was warm to the touch. "They need to talk and Sharon needs to decide whether she wants Melody in her life or not."

Steve looked at him intently. "I'm not sure where Sharon's at with all this. Mel, she really hurt her."

"I know that." He could see the agent's side more clearly now, than he had initially been able to. In many ways, his initial reaction to events reminded him of how he'd treated Melody when they'd first met. He'd been so wrapped up in his own pain and hopelessness that he'd ignored everything else. He'd done the same thing now, when Melody had fallen apart in his arms. 

"She hasn't told me everything," Steve continued, "but the long and short of it is that she's spent the last few weeks switching back and forth between crying and being so angry you can count the veins in her forehead."

"I don't blame her for that." Discovering your best friend had covered up a murder from two decades was more than enough to create that reaction. "Steve, where are you going with this?"

"I agree they need to talk, but how is forcing them to talk going to make things better? What if they just have another fight and Mel goes mute again? Bucky, she just started talking last week. If this goes...well not the way you want it to, it might push her over again."

"I know that," he said, staring at the black liquid in his cup. He still hadn't touched it. His nerves were too frazzles for caffeine. That was what he was afraid of. "I'm surprised you care-I've never known you two to be on that great of terms."

Steve shrugged. "I don't hate her. I just can't understand her. I don't know why she'd hide what happened to her for as long as she did, it's not like it was her fault." He shrugged again, "I still feel like she has something to hide. And," his thick eyebrows furrowed together. "I want to help her if I can, I've been keeping up with the news coverage from New York and I saw the interview her mother gave." Steve's jaw tightened as he recalled it. Bucky hadn't bothered to watch it, he already knew the full extent of what Melody had lived through. "What happened to her was horrible. I feel terrible for her, but I have no clue how to approach her about any of it."

_ He doesn't know. Sharon didn't tell him. _ "She does."

"Can you tell me? Or is this something I'll have to go and ask her directly about?"

Bucky took a deep breath. He couldn't lie to Steve anymore. He'd promised himself he never would again. "I know what she's hiding and Sharon does too, that's why she's so torn up about everything."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"You said you wanted to help Melody and one way to do that would be knowing the public story rather than the truth."

"Public story?" He repeated carefully, eyebrows rising up his forehead.

"I asked you to lie for her once, I won't ask that again." He wasn't sorry Steve had covered for Melody last time, he still felt it was the right thing. However, this was another matter. This was murder and he couldn't ask Steve to lie, not if it went against everything he believed in. "Which is why I'm telling you that the public story isn't true. You deserve to know that."

"What's the pubic story?" Steve asked, no hint of hesitation in his voice. 

"John Frasier's death wasn't a suicide, it was my mission." 

He watched his words impact and Steve paled a little as he heard the lie. "I see," he said, "and knowing that, how is Melody alive? Hydra doesn't leave witnesses."

"Because I heard her talk," Bucky answered. "She said 'he can't hurt me anymore'. And since the brainwashing hardware wasn't concrete, it allowed me flexibility when carrying out orders, I realized she wouldn't say anything about my involvement and that her testimony to the police would likely prevent them from looking any further into the matter."

"Smart," Steve muttered. "And that also accounts for why she hid you two years ago, she felt like she owed you something."

"Yep." Steve was handling this incredibly well. Though Bucky hadn't outright stated the truth, he didn't need to. Steve already knew this story was false, so the alternative wasn't hard to guess.

"That'll probably  improve your reputation, just a little." Steve smirked in a cold sort of way. "His death was more like a public service than anything."

"I cite that as the only good thing I ever did with Hydra." 

Steve's cold smile lessened. "That's what Sharon has been agonizing over? John's death?"

"Correct."

"Am I allowed to talk to Mel about it?" he asked. "I don't need details, I just...I want to clear up a few things about it and I think she's the best person to talk to."

"You can, just don't push her if she says no."

"I won't."

Bucky rolled his eyes.  He couldn't quiet believe that. "You're you," he retorted. "You're pushy." That was something he'd seen first hand since the nineteen forties. There was no point in denying it. Sometimes it served him well and helped bring about some pretty good things, but this was not going to be one of those times.

"I'm trying not to be, a pretty smart doctor told me that approach doesn't work," he gave Bucky a wry smile. "Think I'm going to take her advice since my approach hasn't really worked in the past."

"That's an understatement."

"I'm sorry, by the way about that." Steve said, his head bowed and his hands curled around his cup. The ceramic looked  small in his hands. "I shouldn't have pushed you about the lab that way I did. That was wrong."

Bucky shrugged. "You were trying to help me, you don't need to feel bad about that." He smiled a moment, but then the peaceful moment shattered when he realized what Steve had said. "When in the hell did you and Melody talk about me and the lab?"

"When I picked her up at the airport and then after she got here. Didn't respond very well when she told me she'd asked you if you wanted to talk and backed off when you said no."

"Steve," Bucky said warily. "Please tell me you didn't make an ass of yourself."

"I did," he shrugged, "at first, but I backed off once she explained her reasoning. It made sense then. And since where on the topic, Mel was horrible to Wanda yesterday and needs to apologize."

"What?" he asked. "When did that happen?" This was the first time he'd heard anything about Melody talking to Wanda about the incident yesterday. 

"I don't know what she said but Wanda is really upset about it. She's been crying on and off since yesterday and I don't think my assurances are getting through to her." He sighed. "She's just a kid Buck and I'm not saying that I expect anyone to be a ray of sunshine after getting a surgical tool stabbed into their leg, but yelling at her like that was wrong." 

"She yelled?"

"I think so," Steve shrugged. "What else would upset Wanda so much? I tried to get details, but she wouldn't answer. And no, I didn't push her about it, you'd be proud. Oh and fair warning, she'll probably want to apologize to Clint as well. He's pissed off."

 "I'll talk to Melody, I doubt she yelled at Wanda, she's not a shouter." He grinned, remembering just how loud she was capable of being. "Well not usually anyways."

"Bucky," Steve groaned. "I'm trying to eat."

"Steve! I'm surprised at you! _I_ was talking about how she has to yell over ambulance sirens while she's at work and trying to get her team moving on a treatment plan." That was a lie and the grin on his face gave it away, but the effect was still hilarious. Steve's face turned beet red and he slunk forward in his chair, hiding his face in his hands. 

"Stop talking about this. Please."

"Fine," Bucky laughed. "I wasn't kidding when I said I'd talk to Melody. I like Wanda-and I don't want her to beat herself up over what happened. It was an accident."

"You're not mad?"

"Oh I was at first," he admitted without hesitation. "Almost burst a vein in the lab since I was trying very hard not to yell at her."

"Well thank you for your restraint."

"If Melody hadn't sent me away, I wouldn't have been able to hold onto it. Don't give me that much credit." Bucky shrugged self-depreciatingly. "I'm not always rational when it comes to her. I don't like when she's hurt. And I know it doesn't excuse how I've sometimes acted but," he shrugged again, "I have a hard time controlling that impulse." Melody had been through enough pain already and Bucky, for better or worse wanted to shield her from more. Such a thing was not always possible, which in turn left him feeling angry and helpless while he watched her suffer. 

"I figured that out," Steve said, taking another drink of his coffee. "You were willing to risk getting arrested or killed when you thought she was missing.  And that's when I don't mention how you reacted when she was shot." He set down the cup, the glass making a chinking sound against the wood. "You think they'll get passed this? Her and Sharon? This was a pretty big secret to keep, with you and..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. 

"I know," he said. "But I hope they can. I hope Sharon can be like you were with me, justifiably pissed off but able to bury the hatchet. You know her better than I do, is that a false hope?" 

Steve gave him a half-hearted smile. "I don't think so. But remember, I'm not infallible. The only person who knows how she's going to feel about all this is her."

Bucky nodded and looked over at the clock. Now a full hour had passed since he'd burst into the apartment to yell at Sharon. "Do you think I should check on them? I'm worried."

"I'm afraid to," Steve admitted. "If things went great and they're back to normal then it's fine but if not...I've walked into war zones and I think I'd take that over seeing what's going to be left after a falling out." He shuddered and Bucky agreed with the notion. He'd take a hail of bullets over seeing Melody curled on the ground in too much pain to move or speak.

"So we're going?" Bucky asked.

Steve drained the last of his coffee. "Of course."


	76. Seventy-Six

"You don't have to come with me to apologize you know. This is my mistake." Melody told Sharon as they stepped into the elevator. Apparently Wanda had opted to live on the top floor of the building. 

"You're injured," Sharon replied. "You're still limping. I'm just here in case walking gets too hard on you. And seriously,breathe," Sharon advised as the doors closed shut. "This isn't brain surgery."

"I'd take the craniotomy," Melody replied, shaking her head. Brain surgery she understood to some degree, having scrubbed in on a few procedures while she'd been both an intern and a resident. Apologies she was far less familiar with, at least in this context. She apologized more regarding death of loved ones or permeant injuries versus social blunders. 

"Relax," her friend rolled her eyes as she tapped a button on the elevator wall. "I know how that speech goes-you're trying to prepare them for life and death matters. You're harsh, but your students know you're like that with everyone. Wanda doesn't and you didn't take that into account."

"What am I supposed to say?" she asked as the silver cubicle moved smoothly upwards. "So I don't screw up again? She's a good person and she's incredible at what she does or at least she could be. Type three for sure."

"She's not a surgeon." 

"Same principle," Melody replied. "A good person who's great in their field too. Given what happened with the Accords, I think the Avengers here are going to need that."

"You think she's the only one?"

"No, Steve is too. I know that. The others I'm not sure." She shrugged. "I don't know them well enough to guess."

"You know Sam."

"He's an acquaintance," Melody corrected. "I'm not close with him." 

"You've known him three years."

"He respects me and the fact that I'm an expert in my field and he's always polite to me. He doesn't like me that much." She shrugged. "He's told me before that he doesn't approve of how harsh I am with my students."

"Fair," Sharon slid her hands into her pockets. 

Melody shrugged. "I know I'm tough on them. I know I'm cruel even but I'm okay with being the bad guy. Better I'm the one chewing them out than a Board of Directors, an ethics committee or a judge and jury in a malpractice trial." 

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. "Tell her you're not there to scold her. Explain what you tried to say in the lab." She looked sidelong as they exited the elevator. "What were you trying to say?"

"Exactly what I said." Melody answered, falling in step beside her. She'd given that speech to numerous residents and it never varied. "But that method doesn't work with Wanda, so I need to think of an alternative."

Sharon shook her head. "Okay, can you tell me _why_ you gave her the 'you don't get to be sorry' speech?"

"She's an extraordinary person," Melody replied instantly. The reasons she gave the speech never varied. Not over the years she'd been giving it. "She could do incredible things, but not if she keeps making the same mistakes over and over again. She'll do more harm than good and eventually, the harm will come on a scale that's too big for an apology to fix." 

"Remove the last sentence," Sharon said instantly. "Not that you're reasoning isn't solid, but given what happened with the Accords you shouldn't say that. It implies that you think her actions contributed to the formation of it."

"They were, but they weren't the only factor. As fast as those laws were written up, law makers had that laying and waiting for someone to screw up big enough to make the public blind with rage and therefore, not question the content of the Accords."

"That's actually really insightful."

Melody shrugged. "The Accords were good in theory but not practical in application. And that underwater prison?" She scowled.  "I'm sure that wasn't mentioned. And had the situation been normal, it would never have been allowed by the public." 

"I agree completely," Sharon said. "So," she grabbed Melody's hand and pulled her into a shadowed portion of the hallway. "Recap, what are going to say to Wanda?"

"Provided she will agree to speak with me," Melody began, hooking her thumbs through the belt loops on the short. "I want to tell her that I was unduly harsh yesterday and that I'm sorry. I also want to take the opportunity to explain myself better. That I see her as a person who is very extraordinary in her field, but that the same thing is also dangerous because mistakes become correspondingly larger and so it helps to minimize the chances of that by not repeating the same mistakes over again. And that's what I mean when I tell my students they don't get to be sorry, because the only way to prove your sorry is to do better next time." 

"That's it," Sharon approved as they made their way down the white hallway. The design here was the same on the other floors, but the view was much higher and the many tall windows lining the walls gave a breathtaking view of the jungle and the massive statue of a Panther that seemed to guard the building. "That's what you need to say, but try to sound more human. You sound like your giving a lecture on microbiology."

Melody winced. That would not be effective in assuring Wanda she was genuine. "Would changing my tone help?"

"A little, but it would help more if you tried to humanize yourself. Tell her a story about how that happened to you. You made a stupid or careless mistake and how it had a huge impact."

Melody had no shortage of those. She'd worked in medicine far too long not to. "Good idea, commonality is a good tool for empathy. And if she doesn't want to talk to me? What do I do then? I still apologize of course, I know that. But I still want her to know what I meant. She needs to learn that before her luck runs out."

Sharon rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. "It's amazing how you can make feelings sound like science." 

"Emotions are based in science, or at least partly." Melody argued. "Neurotransmitters and chemicals create the reactions in our body that we associate with emotions. For example, when we're afraid our body releases adrenaline into our blood stream which in turn increases our heartrates, enhances vision and-."

"Yes, yes, you made your point." Sharon interrupted, waving her hand. "But this isn't all science okay? Emotions can't be fully explained by science. And neither can apologies." She gave Melody a stern look and stopped walking, grabbing her hand. "So, just...try to feel more instead of thinking. You'll probably do better with that route. And if she doesn't want to talk, at least you'll know you tried to do the right thing. That's all you can do."

_ Even if she does listen, why should she believe me?   _ Melody wondered  as  she a saw a simple white door. She looked over at Sharon, silently questioning and her friend nodded in confirmation. "Wish me luck."

"Are you sorry?" Sharon asked. "Genuinely sorry?"

 "I am sorry that I didn't explain myself in a way she could understand." She stood by her comments, harsh as they were because she believed she was right. It was better that Wanda got a harsh talk from her than made the same mistake again and hurt someone in a way that was far more serious than a superficial wound to the leg. "I treated her like my students but she doesn't have prior knowledge of my teaching style and acting like she did was mistake on my part. I failed her, I hurt her instead of teaching her and I'm sorry for that." 

"Then you'll be fine," she said approvingly. "Now just keep in simple, be sincere and it'll be fine."

"That outcome has no evidence to support it," Melody remarked as she walked away from Sharon, who hung back against the wall, watching and waiting. She felt a shiver of nerves work up in her stomach again as she knocked on Wanda's door.

_ Clarify that I failed to communicate properly, extraordinary, possibility include personal story about my own mistakes-.  _ Her mental rundown of her apology was cut short was Wanda opened the door. The young woman looked too worn for her age with red eyes and untidy hair.

"What do you want?" she asked stiffly and Melody felt her heart race. Now was her time to be better, but this was not an area she was confident in. Medicine she was good at, talking to people was another matter. 

"I'd like to talk with you, please," she added that as an afterthought, hoping the word would soften the tone of the sentence as  whole. When Wanda sighed and held open the door, Melody inferred that it had worked. Her theory about Wanda being a type three was so far shaping up to be a very solid. Hurt though she was, she was agreeing to talk, to rise above when she didn't have to.

Melody stepped over the threshold and entered a small, quaint room. The color-pallet was neutral mostly, as she had expected, given how her own apartment was furnished. But the personal touches Wanda had added such as the dark red pillows and bedspread hinted added a change. A sense of personality. As did the guitar and photographs. Melody noted the instrument, she hadn't been aware that Wanda was a musician.

"So," Wanda asked stiffly, plopping down onto her bed and crossing her legs. "Talk." Melody wasn't encouraged by her dry tone nor her apprehensive expression but she was not going to run away. This was a time where she needed to follow her own advice. This was the only way she could be better and even as she acknowledged this mistake, she knew she would not make it again. 

Melody's mind became like a TV show through static. She knew the general picture, but the details were fuzzy and indistinct. She folded her arms behind her back and resisted the urge to look at the carpet. It was a normal symptom of guilt, to not be able to make eye contact, but on the same side, eye contact was also important for apologies. She was not going to look away.

"Doctor," Wanda said, crossing her arms, a bit of red light flickering between her fingers. "I don't mean to be rude," her eyes glinted with an unspoken message; _unlike you_ they were saying. In retrospect that was correct, telling a person to shut up wasn't very polite. "But if you're going to take all day about this, I'd prefer to handle this on a different day. I have a lot on my plate."

"It won't take all day," Melody said instantly. "Just..." A bit of Sharon's advice came back to her; feel more instead of thinking she'd said, that and something about stories. "I had a patient once, I was a third year resident and we had a car crash come in. Van got smashed by a truck. The kids were fine, save a few lacerations. Mom was hurt badly and was brought up to surgery almost instantly. Dad stayed behind of course and tried to calm down the kids, they were pretty young and were scared by everything that had happened." 

"Is there a point to this?" Wanda demanded. 

"I was busy that day,"' Melody said, speeding up her pace. "It was New Years and we'd just had snow which had melted and then refroze. Creates black ice and that's a hazard for anyone who commutes. Their father seemed to be fine, alert, responding, walking and talking. I didn't think anything was wrong." Melody's heart tightened in her chest. Robert Marks was a patient she would never forget, nor his sons and their horrified faces. "But I was wrong, he was bleeding internally and he collapsed. When I finally did a more in-depth examination his abdomen was rock hard, full of blood and there was nothing anyone could do for him. He died that day and if I had been more through, checked for myself instead of assuming he would still be alive."

Wanda's expression seemed to soften. Melody wasn't so sure though, she had a hard time reading people's faces if she didn't know them well. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm a doctor," Melody said. "And what's more the type of doctor that I am makes me uniquely qualified. I can do things other people can't. I know things other people don't and that means I can do great things. I can keep someone alive when they might have died otherwise. But, as I just told you, that's not always what happens. I make mistakes and because of what I am, those mistakes have can have huge consequences. Sometimes it's death, sometimes it's unneeded surgery, longer recoveries, chronic conditions and sometimes I get lucky. But luck, it always runs out. So, knowing that, I have to take steps to minimize my chances of making mistakes that end with serious problems. Do you know how I do that?"

"No."

"I never make the same mistake twice. I failed to properly examine a patient who appeared fine after a trauma and he died. Now I examine every patient who comes through properly, especially in the wake of a serious accident. I didn't read a chart properly once, gave a wrong dosage of a drug, they didn't die, but I now, I read every chart twice. And those are just a few examples of all the mistakes I've made once. And I'll never stop, making mistakes I mean." She clarified. Perhaps it was an unneeded one, but she wasn't going to take the chance. She'd already screwed this up once and she wasn't eager to do it again. Her leg throbbed, the Advil she'd taken wasn't very strong, but it was wearing off now and she was starting to feel the full effect of her injury. 

"Why should I believe you?" Wanda asked, meeting her gaze with fierce eyes. "You've proven your a very good liar." 

_ Yep. Type three.  _ Powerful, kind and intelligent. Those always cropped up in those sort of people. Melody sighed. She didn't like this option but she couldn't think of an alternative. "You can read minds, can't you?"

Wanda blinked, appearing surprised. "Yes." 

"Then read  mine. If you want to that is."

Wanda tilted her head, considering the matter and then she flicked her fingers, red light curling around them. 

"Wait," Melody said, "just a warning-don't go too far in. There are some....Really terrible things in my head. I don't want you to see them."

"I won't go farther than you allow," Wanda promised and she moved her fingers again, the red light floating towards Melody like smoke and touching her forehead. It felt cold, like mist. 

"I will always make mistakes and people will still get hurt by them and I have no control over that." She said, sighing as she watched Wanda's intent expression. "The only thing I can even try to control is how many mistakes I make by not repeating them." She sighed and sat down on the far edge of the bed and crossed her arms. The throbbing pain in her leg was making standing too painful. "You're the same, Wanda. You're not a surgeon, but you can do things other people can't. Those things make you capable of achieving great things. But that also sets you in the same trap, the mistakes you make, some but not all, will be just as great as the victories you win. And while they can't be avoided, you need to minimize them so the big ones are as few as possible. And if you want to do that you need to start by doing better. By _being_ better than you were before."

Wanda titled her head, her long hair falling sideways. Melody couldn't be sure, but she seemed far more calm now. Less like a wounded animal ready to fight and more contemplative. "Your leg hurts." She winced and Melody wondered briefly if she could feel the pain too. 

"Yes, I can." Wanda answered and Melody beamed.

"That's fascinating!" 

Wanda mirrored her smile. Apparently she could feel her emotions too "Yes, I can feel what you do. Not as intensely though, it's more like an echo. And the more I can focus, the clearer it gets." Her grin flickered. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry your in pain." 

"I know that."

"Doctor Frasier?"

"Call me Mel."

"Really? You don't usually let people do that. Why...Oh," understanding dawned on her features. "You think that my being at what was technically your engagement party is grounds for using first names." 

Melody nodded. "That is very impressive." She been thinking that though she'd never even formed the words in her mind. Wanda's power was truly extraordinary. 

"Thank you." Wanda replied, blushing a bit. "This scares people sometimes."

"I can see why, but it's only as dangerous as you decide to be." Melody shrugged and decided to play around once more with having a conversation that was partly mental. It was a very interesting experience.  _I wish I knew more people who could do this_ , she thought and  Wanda laughed. _This would really be useful when I'm trying to talk to people outside of work. I'm not good at it._

"Okay," Wanda shifted in her seat, the red light still floating around her fingers.  She seemed far more relaxed now, though Melody still wasn't sure. "Yes, I am more relaxed-you have a very interesting mind D-Mel. And I say that as a good thing," she said, continuing to showcase her abilities as she answered Melody's unspoken question. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"That I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. The way I talked to you was ineffective. I treated you like one of my students, like you had knowledge of how I teach and you don't. I was wrong and I'm really, very sorry."

Wanda sighed. "I know you are and yes, I forgive you."

"That was fast." Melody frowned. "I was a bitch." That was the general consensus by all of her students and they were right. She was not a friendly person at work. She was better outside the walls of the hospital but her weaknesses still cropped up. Her last talk with Wanda was proof of that. 

"You can't lie to me right now," Wanda reminded her. "I can see that you're sorry. You're not just saying it, you mean it. You're trying...You're trying to be better." She smiled again. "Living by example, very nice."

Melody shrugged. She knew it was intended to be a compliment, but she felt awkward anyways. She was used to people complimenting her on her surgical skills, not her character. "Would you mind getting out of my head?" 

"Of course," Wanda moved her fingers again and the cool feeling across Melody's skull lessened and the red light faded away. "Thank you, for that. Like I said, your mind is very interesting and I say that in the best way."

"The brain is the organ we know least about," Melody said, "it's a very mysterious organ."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I don't mean the organ. I mean your thoughts-how you think and process. The way you think is quiet funny. You're very logical and that makes you struggle with abstract concepts. And yet you seem to use them too."

"How do you figure?"

"I saw something, 'type three' whatever that means. It wasn't a topic you were thinking directly about, but it was there. It's a classification isn't it?"

"Yes."

"What's it mean?"

"Ask me again in a few years," Melody replied. She couldn't tell Wanda what that meant yet. She had to grow more before then. "Is there anything else I can answer for you? About what you saw?"

"I do have one question, but it's not about what I saw."

"You can ask," Melody said, "but I can't promise an answer." She wasn't ready, to talk about the scars, to talk about what John had done to her. Besides, she needed time to confer with James about details in the story they were going to tell. Or at least that was what she was telling herself. 

"You love Bucky and no, that's not my question. I'm just...Well," Wanda looked down at her hands. "Some people are going to say that it's wrong, you and him. You have to know that. So, how do you deal with it?"

Melody considered that a moment. Out of all the questions Wanda could have asked, that wasn't one she'd planned for. She'd been expecting something about dealing with the death she saw in her job, not how she felt about the perception of her relationship with James. "I didn't have people, for a long time. No one loved me. And now, knowing both, what it's like to have people and to have no one-having people is better. So knowing that, if people want to have a problem with who I love and who loves me, that's fine. It's their problem and they can keep talking. I know what matters to me and I know the life I want to live."

Melody rocked forwards, gingerly getting to her feet, the ache that had built up in the wound and around the immediate area was starting to heat up, to burn and radiate down through her entire leg. She kept the pain off her face, a skill she had mastered long ago, but her inability to put her full weight on her leg was not something she could hide.

Wanda got onto her feet, face paling a little but her voice was steady when she spoke. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"No," she replied. "I'll be alright once I get some Advil and a nap. I'll see you around Wanda."

She limped towards the door, moving carefully so not to fall over or put excess pressure on the wound. "Are you sure?" Wanda asked, following behind with anxious footsteps. "I'd feel better if I walked you back to your apartment. No offense, but you do not look very steady right now."

"I'll be fine, Sharon came up here with me. But thank you." She smiled at Wanda, knowing the gesture was good for reassuring worried people. Melody had long ago perfected her smile for anxious families and patients alike. It worked pretty well most of the time. 

"Okay," the young woman gave her an uncertain smile. "And D-Mel?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for the advice. You're very wise."

"No," Melody replied, shrugging. "I've just made a lot of mistakes."


	77. Seventy-Seven

Bucky had done and seen a lot of weird things in his life. Watching his fiancé remove stitches from her leg was up there on that list. Six days had passed since they'd gotten engaged, five since Wanda had stabbed Melody and now, the wound (just as she'd stated) was healed enough to no longer need stitches.

"How's your leg?" he asked, noticing the dark red scar tissue that had built up around the area. Freshly healed and with even more time, it would fade from red to white.

"Healed perfectly, scar tissue is maturing and no sign of infection," Melody relied cheerfully, grabbing the towel carrying the crusty remains of the suture and tossing the thing into the trash. "I'm perfectly fine-just like I told you I would be by the way."

Bucky rolled his eyes and grabbed the dinner dishes from the table. "I just got worried okay? It looked pretty bad."

"If it was actually bad, I would've been spurting blood like a fountain."

"Femoral artery right?" he guessed. He remembered Melody explaining that to him once, when she was going over details of a newly updated simulation program. A car crash with a family of five and that had been one of the injuries coded into the system. 

Melody's eyes lit up. "Yes!" She hopped down off the table slowly and put her full weight on the leg, taking a few experimental steps. "And no pain when in motion, excellent," she beamed and then sat down in the chair, pulling a pile of papers back towards her. 

"This more stuff for the sim?" Bucky asked, sitting down across from her and eying the black printing on the pages. He couldn't read upside down but the length of the material made him think it was no simple matter.

"No," Melody replied with a shrug. "They're still making the modifications I suggested last time."

"Immigration paper work?" That was his next guess, the same day she and Sharon had made up, Melody had accepted T'challa's offer and had been working on the needed documentation ever since. And she was holding a pen which only furthered the idea. 

"No."

"There's no way that's the latest medical journal. Way too thin." Bucky said frowning. He'd never read them himself. He'd tried once, just to see what got Melody so engrossed in them, but between the medical jargon and boring data, he'd given up and decided this was an interest Melody could keep to herself.

"It's not. It's  a statement."

"Statement of what?"

"Press statement. I'm still missing in New York remember? Sharon has a friend at the New York Times and said friend has agreed to release this statement for me. I'm just proofreading now." She glanced down again, scanning over the words and groaned, leaning forwards onto the table.

"What? Are you that bad at spelling?"

"No, I just hate writing. I'm bad with words."

Bucky grinned. "I know," he reached across the table and grabbed the sheet of paper. He didn't read the whole thing, just scanned it. It was a statement, not only about the shooting, but the scars that had been uncovered afterwards and how they'd gotten there and how it had ended. To the point, brief and ice cold. "Wow," he commented, "you really are bad with words."

Melody winced. "Yeah, I know. They're going to think I'm a psychopath."

"Or a sociopath." She raised her eyebrows. "I did a lot of reading when I was hiding in Europe-didn't have anyone to talk to and seventy years of information to catch up on." Bucky set down the statement and grabbed her hand, no longer smiling as she hadn't either.

"I don't know how to talk about this." She shook her head, glaring down at the press statement with a look of pure venom. In that moment, Bucky knew she wasn't seeing words on a sheet of paper, but the face of the monster who'd written the story. "I can barely talk to Sharon about it and she's Sharon. How am I supposed to tell thousands of people?"

New York had way more than a thousand people and the story would likely circulate past the city. John hadn't been a monster when he was alive, he'd been a genius. To have that image ripped down would reach way beyond the Big Apple. Bucky wasn't going to remind her of that however, as it would do nothing to ease her fear. "Nightingale," he said gently and sure enough, that little endearment brought a smile to her face. "This isn't an admission of guilt. You're telling the truth about what that son of a bitch was." 

"I haven't done that, ever."

"You told Sharon."

"I told her this," she tapped the paper with the tip of her index finger. "And that was bad enough." 

This was not going well. "You told me." He pointed out, recalling the nightmares that had plagued her sometimes when they'd first met. She'd told him then, in there aftermath, details of her childhood in their dark room, shaking in his arms and silent tears on her face. 

"That's different," Melody rubbed her temples a moment before laying her head down in her arms. "You're...you. I can talk to you about this."

Bucky smiled and stole her pen and her statement, flipping the paper and looking at her. "Tell me about it," he said. "Tell me about what happened."

"Why?" she didn't look up from her hands. "You already know."

"Just tell me," he insisted. 

Melody didn't look up, but she did speak. "I didn't know there was something wrong with my family until I was in kindergarten. The parents were picking up the kids and I saw this one girl in my class just _sprint_ to her dad. Threw her arms around his neck, this big smile on her face-she was overjoyed to see him. I was never happy to see John. I have no memory of ever being glad to see him."

Bucky's stomached twisted as the man's face came to mind as he jotted down what Melody said. His handwriting had never been incredibly neat or nice-looking, but it was legible and that was the important thing. "You were scared when you saw him," he prompted, knowing he was understating and sure she would correct him.

"I was _terrified_ of him. Living with him was like walking through a minefield. Some days things would be fine and if I left him alone or just stayed quiet nothing bad happened. Other days, I'd just walk too loudly while he was working or napping and I'd see the Devil looking out from behind his eyes."

Bucky scribbled that down as well. So far, this was shaping up to be much better for a statement. There was something human in it; the child she had been was finally getting a chance to tell her story. 

"He was smart though," Melody said, sounding a bit contemplative though there was unrestrained agony still in her voice. The voice that belonged to someone she used to be. Bucky had never met that Melody, only seen glimpses late at night as ghosts tore the adult version from sleep. But now he was getting a good, long look at the little girl who'd died all those years ago. "No matter what he used, his hands, the belt, whip or a knife-he made sure no one outside could ever see it. Parts that almost always stay hidden and no one blinks. He was a surgeon and social services works in hospitals, he knew the ins and outs of the system. Avoided them perfectly. Even when he broke my leg and _had_ to bring me to the hospital, he did it again. He'd played so well that no one every questioned the story. All they saw was a scared parent with an injured child."

He scratched that down as well. So far this was shaping up to be a much better statement. Not a cold, detached listing of events, but the events and the emotions around each of them.  Bucky looked up at Melody from his scribbling and saw her face was still hidden away in her arms. "You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," he assured her. "Like you said, I already know the story." He added a bit on the paper about how she was unsure about how to talk about her past. She'd told him as much before two years ago.

"But I can't _not_ talk about it." Melody complained to the table, still unaware of what he was doing.  "I can't not talk about it, not if I want to rejoin the mainstream world. And I do. I want to be a surgeon again."

"You miss it." Bucky didn't miss the note of longing in her voice. 

"Every day." She replied, a long sigh following the words. "I love you and waking up to you every day makes me happier than I've been in years. But that's not enough for me. To just sit here and be a homemaker isn't enough for me. I need more than that." Melody looked up then, frowning as she realized how bad that sounded. "I'm sorry." She hung her head again. "I know how terrible that sounds. Saying a life with the person you love is not enough."

Bucky shrugged. "Not really, I learned how to speak your language a long time ago." He smiled and reached for her hand, her fingers warm against his cold skin. "I know what being a surgeon means to you; needing something other than me to make you happy isn't a bad thing, it's balance."

Melody looked up, a relieved smile on her face. "I love you." Her smile faded and she titled her head. "And what are you doing?"

"Finishing your statement," he said, handing over the paper. "All you need in a conclusion. I was thinking something like 'all I want now is move forward with my life and heal'. Or is that to generic?" She glanced over at him, jaw half-open and eyes full of silent questions. Thankfully, the same way Bucky had learned to read between the blunt words she'd say, he'd also learned to read her expressions. "I know this is hard for you, going from having a lifetime of secrets to having to tell everyone about it in a matter of months. But like you said already, you have to do this if you want to go back to work. So I thought you might have an easier time talking to me, rather than everyone that reads the Times."

"You were right," she said weakly, slouching in her chair, relief apparent in her face and then she got to her feet and before Bucky could ask what she was doing, she slid into his lap, arms around his neck and her mouth on his in a soft kiss.

She broke away a  moment later, holding his face in her hands and Bucky felt her smile reflect on his face. "Not that I'm complaining," he remarked, leaning in to kiss her once more. "But what was that for?"

"I love you," was her prompt answer as their lips met again and she held him close and he repeated the gesture, his hands sliding onto her back, the new sensors in his hand picking up the motion of her ribcage rising and falling. "James?"

"Yeah?" He trailed his right hand down her back, toying with the idea of undressing her. He still had a few rooms to knock of his list. 

"I want to do a traditional wedding." 

That drove the idea of sex out of Bucky's mind. "What?"

"I think it sounds nice, a classic white wedding. I want to do that."

"You're serious?" Bucky sat more upright, stunned beyond words. Yes, this had been what he wanted, but he did not think she would agree. This was the second time Melody had completely subverted his expectations.

"Yeah," Melody smiled at him, "I've done some research and it seems nice." 

"Research? That's what you've been doing all week?"

"Yes. Mainly when you're sleeping," she admitted. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure. I know what this all means to you."

"Don't do this just because it's what I want."

"It's your wedding too, you get a say," Melody replied, kissing him again. He could feel her smile at the contact. 

"Your the bride," he reminded her as she drew away. "What you say goes."

"Yes and I say that a traditional wedding is nice." She sighed. "I know I don't seem like a traditional bride. I've never even been to a wedding. But like I said, I've been researching. And I think the vows are nice. I want to say those things to you in front of the people who matter to us."

"That's it?"

"I'd also like to see you dressed up," Melody said, a sultry sort of look on her face. "Never had that chance before." Her fingers tapped along his collar. "We're not a normal couple and we never will be and I'm okay with that. But whatever bits of normal we can steal, I want those. I want to look back ten years from now and remember how your face looked when you saw me in a wedding dress."

"I'm going to cry, admitting that now."

"And Sam will hold it over your head every time someone brings up our wedding," Melody laughed, toying with a strand of his hair. "I want that," she assured him, smiling warmly. "I really want that."

"Then that's what we'll do," he promised, kissing her cheek. "Anything you want."

Melody laughed, her head thrown back as she did. "You're really going to be good at this whole married thing."

Bucky pressed a kiss against her neck. "I'll do my best," he promised even as he let his hands roam over her back and down to her waist. "And speaking of that," he began to edge her shirt up but Melody grabbed his hands. "What?"

"You're not the only traditional person here," she informed him, eyes glinting. slyly. 

"I don't like how that sounds," he commented and Melody nodded.

"No sex."

"What?"

"You heard me. No sex, at least not until after the wedding."

"That isn't fair."

"That's very traditional," she replied, kissing Bucky's cheek before getting off his lap.

"It's the twenty-first century," he complained. "And it's not like there's a point in waiting; there's nothing here we haven't already seen." Bucky shifted so he could get a better view as he made that point. Melody's shorts fit her very well and gave him a very pleasant view.

"Oh there's a point," Melody promised, winking as she caught him staring. "And don't worry, it won't be that long of a wait."

"You sound confident about that," Bucky commented, crossing his arms and sulking. 

Melody fixed him with a stern look. "I had to wait twelve years before planning a future, I had to wait sixteen to be a doctor and I had to wait thirty before I knew what love was. I'm a patient woman, but I have my limits. I'm not waiting to be your wife." She grabbed the nearly-completed statement off the table and smiled down at his scrawled, messy notes. "Now, I need to type this and make a few phone calls. If you can't find me, I'm probably going to be with Sharon."

"You're going to send off the statement today?" he asked, frowning. "Isn't that a bit soon? Shouldn't you edit or something?"

"No," Melody shook her head. "We're not going to send this out today. We're going to start planning a wedding."


	78. Seventy-Eight

"Wake up," Melody groaned as she felt someone shake her shoulder. "Wake up," the voice said again, more insistent than before.  She replied with an even louder groaned and yanked the warm covers over her head. She'd been driving herself crazy the last five days, planning her wedding, was a little restful sleep too much to ask? She was fully prepared to ignore the voice again, but as suddenly as the word 'wedding' crossed her mind, Melody bolted upright as though someone had thrown cold water over her.

The apartment came into focus, the afternoon sky bright blue and Sharon was standing beside her bed, arms crossed, long hair in a messy bun and still wearing her plaid sweatpants from the night before. "The dead have awoken. Wonderful." 

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked, stretching and eyeing the bright sky again. "Why did you let me sleep this late?"

"You planned an entire wedding in five days," Sharon said flatly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You needed sleep."

Melody shook her head. Truth be told, she wasn't sure if it couldn't as a typical wedding. Seven guests, (six if T'challa wasn't counted as he was officiating the ceremony) no photographer, no catering, no DJ and other small details that they couldn't include. Cutting those things out had made the process far easier. And also, Sharon had done most of the work which had taken a great deal of pressure off Melody herself. 

"I slept all day, seems a bit of a waste. I could've been doing something productive."

"You'll be dancing all night," Sharon replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You've been working hard enough with Steve over the last few days."

Melody shrugged. "Not really, I'm not very good."

"Have you broken his toes?"

"No."

"Then you're good enough," Sharon replied with a grin. "Now come on, you need to start getting ready."

Melody glanced at the sky again. "You really think it's going to take that long?"

"Ceremony starts at dusk and that's going to be here before you know it," her friend said sharply. "Come on,  get up and greet the day." She poked at her again, half-playful and half insistent. 

Melody opened her mouth to say that she couldn't greet the day without caffeine but Sharon read her mind. "I already made you coffee and I'll be doing your hair first you can eat while I do that." She beamed and threw the covers off her leg. "Where's the coffee?"

***

"And done!" Sharon declared happily as she swept a fluffy brush across Melody's cheek.  "You look perfect."

Melody didn't think that was the word she'd use as she examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror.  She never spent much time on her hair or makeup so what Sharon had done was certainly out of her comfort zone. Her hair was pulled away from her face, held in a low bun at the nape of her neck, a few strands left lose around her face so the look wasn't so severe. Sharon had done her eye makeup as well, a thin line of black eyeliner and mascara which made the feature stand out far more than she was used to.

"You don't like it?" her friend asked, her features pinched and anxious in the mirror. 

"No, it's nice. Just different from what I'm used to." That was true, as the more she looked at her reflection, the initial shock began to fade out and was replaced with a warm sense of satisfaction. "I look really pretty."

"You look beautiful," Sharon corrected and the accented voice of Wanda Maximoff echoed the sentiment. The young woman's face came into view in the glass as well and she was smiling widely. She had already gotten dressed, a simple grey-slip dress over her slim frame and her long hair undone and shiny around her shoulders.  The makeup around her eyes bright and shiny and carefully applied, the whole effect made for a very dramatic look, but it was done tastefully enough to not be overwhelming. 

"You look nice," Melody commented, smiling. "I like the dress."

"Really?" She asked, plucking the hem nervously. The many rings on her fingers glinting in the white light. "I know grey isn't exactly festive."

Melody shrugged. "It's fine. I mean I'm wearing white and that's a funeral color in some countries."

Sharon beamed in the mirror. "And speaking of that," she set down the fluffy makeup brush on the counter and grabbed Melody's hand eagerly. "It's time for you to get dressed." She grabbed her hand, "Come on!"

Melody sighed but allowed Sharon to led her towards the closet where she'd stashed her wedding dress three days before. Despite Melody's earlier worries, Sharon had thrown herself into the wedding plans with a great deal of enthusiasm. Wanda followed as well, looking curious. "For the record," Sharon said slyly to the young woman. " _I_ picked this out." She let go of Melody's hand and opened the closet, grabbing the long white bag inside and held it, beaming. "And I had to repair a few loose buttons. Guess I owe my home economics teacher an apology for all the complaining I did about sewing." She unzipped the bag and revealed the white dress inside.

"Oh that's beautiful!" Wanda said, her voice so warm and eyes so bright that it was impossible to doubt her sincerity. They'd spoken after Melody's rather unorthodox apology and she had offered to help with the wedding. Sharon had taken her up on the offer and her incredible powers had proven quiet useful since then, as had her keen eye for colors. Melody was quiet thankful for that, as she herself lacked the skill. "But I don't see any buttons."

"They're on the back," Sharon answered, removing the dress from the bag and turning the gown over to reveal the lace backing and white buttons that went down it. "Cute huh?"

"Very vintage," Wanda commented, still smiling. 

"I thought so too," Melody said though it was a lie. She hadn't even considered it until now. "Wanda, would you mind getting my earrings? I think I left them in the bathroom." 

They were either there or in her nightstand. Melody wasn't sure, but she wanted Wanda to look their first. It would give her enough time to get into the dress without Wanda getting a full view of all the scars. The lace back would show some of it, yes, but not all and the short sleeves would reveal the one on her arm for sure. Little steps.

"Of course," she said with an amiable bob of her head and she wandered off to the bathroom to collect the earrings.  

"Can we hurry?" she asked as the Scarlet Witch disappeared from view. She heard a note of pleading in her voice but at the moment didn't care that much. "Please?"

Sharon sighed and shook her head, but she held out the dress either way and Melody sighed as well, relieved as she disrobed and stepped into the dress. Half a second later, Sharon was deftly buttoning the back of the gown and Melody was hidden again. Or mostly anyways, even so, as she glanced down, she could see a portion of the scar on her left arm. The cap sleeves tightened as the dress was secured and Melody sighed, relief sweeping through her as Wanda came back into view.

"I can't find them," she said, a scowl on her face. "I can look again-."

"No," Melody said, realizing that she had indeed been wrong.  "It's okay. I think I messed up, I put them in the nightstand yesterday." Wanda twitched her fingers, red vapor sliding between them  and the small studs floated through the air into her waiting hands.

"Here  you are," Wanda beamed handing them over with a grin. "Is there anything else?"

"No," Melody said, slipping the tiny fake diamonds into her ears. She'd bought them ten years ago for her med school graduation and wore them often. "This is it."

"Are you sure? I feel like I'm supposed to be doing more if I'm your Maid of Honor."

"You're doing plenty," Melody assured her. "You made decorating the ceremony space a breeze."

Wanda laughed and twitched her fingers again, the red sliding back into view. "Glad to be useful." She studied Melody a moment and her smile grew warm, like a quilt.  "You look beautiful." Wanda smiled warmly at her and Melody found herself unable to doubt her sincerity. Given where she was standing, there was no way Wanda couldn't see the scars. She was handling it incredibly well. Perhaps she'd been better at imaging what twenty-percent covering looked like. Melody didn't dare ask either way, she didn't want to talk about her past. That wasn't what today was about. This was about the future. 

"Well," she looked over at Sharon who was still wearing her sweats. "Aren't you going to get ready?"

"Not yet, I'm not done with you."

"Yes you are." Melody frowned, unsure what was going on. "My hair is done, my makeup is done, I'm dressed-what else is there to do?"

Sharon rolled her eyes but didn't reply. Rather she made her way into the bathroom and clicked the door shut behind her. Melody looked over at Wanda. "You're the mind reader, want to explain that?"

Wanda shook her head. "You'd know if I was reading her mind," she said, flicking her fingers and the red light appeared again. 

"Well you're better at reading people than I am." 

Wanda shrugged. "That's true. Mel, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Melody said evenly, her heart skipping a beat as her mind raced to the question she wanted to answer the least; _what happened to your arm?_ Wanda had kept up with the news coverage about her disappearance and subsequent return but the details had been vague. Melody didn't want to go into them on the best of days, least of all on her wedding day. "But sure, you can ask."

"Why'd you pick me to be your Maid of Honor?"

"Well you'd get the title by default for one thing," Melody pointed out. "You're the only bridesmaid I picked." Steve had been the only person in James's side of things, so she hadn't needed more than one person on her end.

"I know, but I don't understand why. I like you just fine, but we just starting spending time together. Generally speaking, this is something you reserve for people you're close to."

Melody shrugged and started fiddling with her ring. A nervous habit she'd fallen into. "Sharon and James are the only people who I'm really close to. But I like you." She smiled nervously. "You're a very kind person and I already knew you were honorable long before we met."

"What?"

"I watch the news, I know all about the Ultron thing." 

Wanda's smile faded. "Oh. Then you know that I helped him do that."

"Yes and I also know that you tried to help stop him once you realized what he was really planning. I know you saved a lot of people even though you experienced a terrible loss." Melody didn't know anything about having siblings personally, but she'd worked on plenty of cases where her patients had siblings who loved them. The loss always hit with like shrapnel. "You kept going and that makes you honorable."

Wanda blinked. "Um," she looked away suddenly. "Thank you."

Melody shrugged and fiddled with her ring again. This was why she seldom gave compliments, they made everything awkward. "And I'm not exactly well liked, so I don't really have friends." S

Wanda laughed, "You're not so bad."

"You've never had to work with me," Melody reminded her. She was about to make a somewhat pathetic joke about how she was far less approachable when she had a ten blade in her hand but was spared that as Sharon re-entered the room. She still wasn't dressed. "Sharon," Melody scolded, "you need to get-."

"I found it," she said, grinning. "Took forever to dig through my purse. It was then Melody noticed a small, square box in her hand. The velvet on the case was worn in the top. "I had a friend mail this to me after you told me about the engagement thing. She opened the case and Melody stared at what was inside. A bracelet of pearls, gleaming milky-white in the soft evening light.

"Wedding trivia one-oh-one," she said. "Brides are supposed to wear white, but they're also supposed to wear something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. You're dress is new, the flowers you're carrying are blue, this," she slide the bracelet onto Melody's wrist and closed the clasp. "Is mine and I will need it back and before it was mine, it was Aunt Peggy's. So it's old too."

Suddenly the pearl bracelet felt heavier. "Sharon..."

"She would've liked to be here," Sharon said with a shrug. "She really liked you. Don't know if you knew that." She leaned forward and hugged Melody tightly. "Aunt Peggy thought it was pretty kickass that my best friend was a surgeon. Probably a relief too, considering the job I work." She let go and smiled at Melody, "Now give me twenty minutes and I'll be ready to walk you down the aisle."


	79. Seventy-Nine

"It's not too late to run," Sharon told her in an undertone, hiding herself and Melody carefully in the shadows as Steve led Wanda down the aisle. "I'll fly the get away chopper, no questions asked." 

Melody knew the statement was as much a joke as it was a serious offer. Taking a shaky breath, she tightened her grip on the flowers and let up in the same moment, fearing her death-grip would break the fragile stems. _Just breathe,_ she thought to herself, but that was a bit hard given how tight the dress suddenly felt. Melody knew, rationally that it wasn't. She couldn't have lost that much weight in twenty-five minutes. The only explanation was anxiety and the erratic beat of her heart and the cold sweat on her palms only further supported the hypothesis.

"Mel," Sharon said, grabbing her gently by her shoulders and turning her so that they were face to face. More than ten seconds had passed for sure now. That was how long Steve told them to wait before following.  "You do not have to do this if you don't want to."

"I-it's not that," she managed, shivering though she wasn't cold. The night air was perfect, just like a clear summer in New York. "The moment I walk out there, everyone is going to look at me." Her face burned saying that, already imaging the wide-eyed looks of horror she was going to get. Trying one the dress, the slight gaps in the lace pattern, the parts where her scars became most visible had not bothered her. It had been enough coverage then, but now she felt like a fool for thinking that. No one wanted to see the carnage that had been carved into her body. 

"Mel," Sharon said in a firm tone, fixing her with a stern look. "Look," she clasped her hands gently on Melody's shoulders. "I know you're afraid of what everyone else is going to think when they see you-but I want you to forget them."

"How?" she whispered, hating how much the word trembled. "They're all out there."

"Yep and so is Bucky. He's out there waiting for you too." That calmed Melody a little and suddenly, relaxing her grip on the bouquet was easier. Sharon nodded, reading her like a book. "While I will always maintain that no man will ever be good enough for you," she said smiling softly, "Bucky's not so bad. He loves you."

Not so bad was putting it very mildly in Melody's opinion. "I know that."

"When you walk down that aisle, don't look at any of them-Sam, Scott, Clint, Steve-none of them." Her voice was firm and clipped, almost like she was giving orders on a recon mission. "Look at Bucky. Just him."

Melody's breathing eased up a little. They were very late now. She wondered how much longer they could stand there before someone came back to see if she'd run off. "Just him," she repeated, more to herself than Sharon.

"Exactly," her friend reaffirmed, grabbing her arm and sliding it through hers. "Just look at him."   Hearing that again was like a Xanax. Her heart began to slow to a normal pace, the dress was no longer like a straight jacket. Sharon met her gaze and her red-lipped smile was warm and understanding. "Do you want to walk out there? Whatever you decide, I'm here."

Melody felt an uneasy smile come to her face. Her fears weren't gone, they were too ingrained to be forced out so easily. But even so, her fear was being pushed out of the forefront of her mind as determination hit her. James was only a few feet away, waiting for her and she wanted to meet him. Her fear could wait, she had something more important to take care of.

"Let's go," she said and Sharon beamed. 

"Okay." She took a step forward, but Melody didn't move. Sharon wobbled for a moment on her three inch-heels but recovered quickly and a confused frown came to her face. "Mel-?"

Melody let go of Sharon's arm and wrapped her in an embrace. "I love you Sharon," she said, voice tight as held her friend. Her family.

Two warm hands collapsed onto her back. "I love you too," she replied, voice breathy as and Melody knew she was trying not to cry. Sharon let go first and rubbed Melody's arm. "Ready?"

"Ready," she agreed as Sharon took her arm again. This time, when she took a step forward, Melody mirrored her and she repeated the advice she'd been given as they walked into the patio-like space that Sharon had turned into a wedding venue. 

The sky above them was ink black and clear, but the space was not dark at all. Sharon had prevented that, stringing twinkling lights through the trees above. She refused to let her eyes wander farther than that though or Melody knew she'd panic. Sharon squeezed her arm gently, reminding her silently of their conversation seconds before. _Look at him,_ she was saying and Melody was happy to follow the instruction. It was the only thing that would get her through this walk. 

So her eyes drifted away from the glowing lights and towards the altar and suddenly, the fear that was still lurking in her mind was silence. A new stimuli had replaced it. James.

He was dressed in a clean suit black suit which fit him quiet well, showing off his strong shoulders and tapered waist. His shaggy brown hair was combed smooth, his face clean shaven and what was more; he was smiling. A large, blinding grin, so completely and utterly happy that it took her breath away. She'd seen a milder version of it before, the night he'd asked her to marry him, but even that dazzling smile paled in comparison to the one she saw now. Suddenly, Melody knew she didn't have to focus on keeping her eyes on James-nothing sort of a catastrophe could divert her attention. They reached the end of the aisle and as per tradition (as far as Melody knew) Sharon kissed her cheek and then reached out, placing her hand in James's. The agent nodded him once, her blue eyes stern and Melody got the sudden feeling that the clip Sharon had used to decorate her side ponytail could also be used for a weapon. She shook her head slightly to herself, clearing away the morbid notion and took the final step so that she stood parallel to James and in the same motion handed off her flowers to Wanda who looked quiet relived to see her.

Melody looked back at James, who was still staring at her, the lights reflecting in his eyes and his hands gentle as they held hers. She squeezed his hands a moment, trying to send a silent apology for her delay as T'challa cleared his throat and began speaking.

"We are gathered here today," his voice rang out, clear and confident in the evening air. "To bear witness to the union of James Buchannan Barnes and Melody Rose Frasier." She was unable to keep the grin off her face hearing his middle name, but she was quickly humbled as she heard her own spoken. "If anyone objects to this, please let them speak now..." T'challa went on but Melody scarcely heard a word he was saying. Her attention was focused on James, her mind was in overdrive, committing every detail of him to her memory, not wanting to miss a thing.

The matte color of his suit, the way his hair framed his strong face and the lights reflecting in the blue of his eyes. The awe-struck smile as he looked at her, the warmth of his human hand and the smooth metal of his newly restored prosthetic. It was all important, precious-consuming her attention-a fact which made her give a little start when he started talking, repeating after T'challa. 

"I, James Barnes take you Melody Frasier to be my wife," he said,  his Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke. His blue eyes were shining, but it wasn't from the light. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health to love and to cherish for as long as we both shall live." 

Melody felt her breathe catch in her chest as those words hung between them and she gave a little start as T'challa said her name. It was her turn now and she resisted the urge to lick her lips, knowing it would mess up the coat of gloss Sharon had applied there earlier. She found her voice, never looking away from James as she said those old words. The promises thousands of other people had said over hundreds of years-but now it was their turn. Part of her was able to consider that she wasn't talking very loudly, but she didn't care if her guests could hear her or not. Everything she was saying, each promise wasn't for them. It was for James. He was the only one who needed to hear it. When she saw a tear slide down his face, she knew that he had.

"If we could have the rings please," T'challa said and Melody reluctantly let go of James's hand to turn and collect the band from Wanda. It was nothing flashy, just a plain gold band she'd bought in a jewelry store the same day she'd bought her dress.

She slid the ring onto James's left hand, the gold standing out against the sliver but he didn't seem to take notice or care. "I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness." Another traditional phrase said by thousands of couples before them, but it warmed her heart to say it. There wouldn't be many keepsakes from this night for them, it carried too much risk, but these rings would be something they'd always have. James repeated the gesture and the same words back to her, his chest rising and falling sharply and Melody saw more unshed tears in his eyes. _I'm never going forget this,_ she thought as T'challa made his closing remarks. _This is the most unforgettable moment of my life._

"You may now kiss your bride."

That was all the invitation James needed, he let go her hands and pulled her to him so swiftly Melody barely had any time to react as his lips crushed hers. She let out a giddy laugh, a rush of endorphins firing off in her mind as Melody wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, his skin warm underneath her touch. 

 _You're mine,_ she thought as they broke apart, barely able to hear the loud laughter of the onlookers. _And I'm yours. Today is the start of our future together._


	80. Eighty

Converting the ceremony space into a reception area took a grand total of ten minutes. Bucky had to admit, if Sharon hadn't wanted to work in espionage, she would've made a great wedding planner. Two tables had been set up, one with food and one with seating and Steve had kindly offered his record player for the night and now, in addition to the sounds of the jungle, the melodies of an old swing band were all around as well.

"Come on," Bucky said, leaning down to whisper in Melody's ear. "You owe me the first dance." He waited, half-expecting to hear her object, saying that she couldn't dance. However, her glossy lips quirked into a smile. 

"Sounds great." And she led him onto the dance floor, the long skirt of her dress swaying as she walked.

Bucky slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Melody laughed at the sudden motion, just as she had when they kissed at the end of the ceremony. "I didn't expect you to be this enthusiastic," he remarked as she grabbed his other hand, lacing her fingers through his.

Melody rolled her eyes. "Dancing isn't so bad."

"And how would you know that?" He asked, tilting his head as he began to lead her in the simple steps the dance. He waited for her fall behind, unfamiliar with the motion, but she didn't. Melody followed his lead easily. "Since when do you dance?" That was the only explanation as to how she'd caught on so fast. This wasn't something 

"Since three days ago." Melody said, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. "I asked Steve to give me a crash course in dancing. I didn't want to keep stepping on your toes all night."

"Appreciate that," Bucky said, mock-wincing. "Poor Steve." Melody rolled her eyes, her eyelashes, made impossibly long by makeup casting long shadows down her face. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she ducked her head, and Bucky knew the gesture well. A silent battle was raging in her head; a battle between thirty years of conditioning and the will to heal from it. Eager to get off the topic, he switched tactics.

"You think anyone noticed that I cried?"

"By 'anyone' do you mean Sam?" She asked, a knowing grin on her face.

"Yes."

"I have no idea," she said with a careless shrug. "I wasn't looking at anyone else." 

"Great," he said, pretending to grimace in horror. "Now he's going to ambush me and I'm going to be helpless."

"I'll protect you," she promised, "Sam knows better than to cross me."

Bucky laughed. "Does he?"

"Everyone here knows that I get called 'Doctor Freezer' but Sam actually saw why that was. He'll keep away if I get involved."Her use of past tense didn't escape Bucky's notice. He was about to correct her, but then stopped short. That nickname had been a play on words, referencing her last name, but now it was outdated. Frasier wasn't her name anymore; her name was Barnes. The thought made him smile and he pulled her closer, far more so than was needed for a waltz, but he didn't care. He wanted to hold her.

"So," he asked, grinning, "this is your first wedding. What do you think?"

Melody considered the question, pursing her lips together. "It's been an emotional affair so far. Sort of weird, but," she shrugged, "I think I like it. Not exactly a romantic notion. Sorry."

"I don't expect you to be romantic," Bucky replied, smiling at his wife (his stomach swooped as he applied the word to her.) "That's not your style, besides," he shifted his grip on her waist and dipped her low as the song started to end. Melody let out a surprised giggle and he pulled her back up, grinning. "I sort of like being the romantic one. It's fun."

Melody continued to laugh, leaning into his chest. "You're a very good dancer."

"This was a very common form of entertainment back in my day," he replied, laughing as well. "I got plenty of chances to practice." The song ended and Bucky was dimly aware of the soft round of clapping going on around them. Melody ducked her head upon hearing it and Bucky saw a blush stain her face. 

"Don't worry," he whispered to her, "this won't be a all-night shindig."

"I hope not," she muttered back as a clinking of silverware on glass sounded off. "What are they doing?"

"Another tradition," Bucky informed her, "we're supposed to kiss whenever they do that."

"That is ridiculous."

"Maybe, but," he leaned in again, brushing a brief kiss across her lips, "I still want to kiss you." Melody gave him a sheepish grin as their few guests hollered their approval. "Not so ridiculous now is it?"

"No, it is," she refuted. "I don't need an excuse to kiss you." As if to prove her point, Melody stood up on her toes and kissed him again. "So, we've done the ceremony, we did the first dance, now what?"

Bucky felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Sharon, in her pale blue cocktail dress was behind him, hand on her hip and grinning. "Now," she said, "I get to dance with you," she said, as a swing dance started playing. "Bucky, you don't mind?"

Sharon didn't wait for a reply, but grabbed Melody and pulled her out on the dance floor before he had a chance to draw breath. "Okay," he muttered, walking off the dance floor and siting down on the edge of a concrete planter. 

"Hey," Bucky tore his eyes away from the dance floor where Sharon had begun leading Melody, off-beat to the music. T'challa was standing beside him, holding a glass of amber liquid. Whisky he was guessing. T'challa seemed like a whisky drinker to him. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all," he said and T'calla settled beside him. "Enjoying yourself I hope?"

"I am." The king's dark eyes flitted towards the dance floor where Melody and Sharon swayed. "I suppose I'll take the time to congratulate you," he said, raising his glass in a slight toast. "I wish you both the best."

"Thank you," Bucky said, realizing how inadequate those words were. He wasn't just talking about the wedding.  "For everything; honestly, I can't thank you enough. T'challa, if you ever need anything..."

T'challa shook his head, cutting him off without words and Bucky fell silent. His expression was solemn. "Heal," he said finally, "try to heal. Find peace in your life. That's what I need from you."

Bucky looked over at the dance floor again; Melody was laughing, the gesture peeling away the exhaustion that she usually wore draped around her shoulders. He was closer to peace now than he'd been in a very long time. "How'd you know about us? Both of our best friends never figured it out and you did."

T'challa smiled. "I've been very lucky in my life, to see a great deal of love. Made me very good at spotting it."

Bucky smiled. That was lucky indeed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was not my place," he shrugged. "I figured you would tell people yourself if and when you were ready." The song ended and Bucky got to his feet as Melody approached again, face flushed and smiling. Sharon had vanished somewhere, but he hadn't seen where. 

"Mel," T'calla addressed her warmly. "Please, allow me to extend my congratulations."

"Thank you," she said, eyes twinkling. "And-."

"Please," he held up a hand, "don't. Just enjoy your wedding."

Melody blinked hearing the word. "Of course," she smiled at T'challa. "I  will." 

"Good," he smiled at her, "now I suppose I'll have to let you go. I've monopolized both of you long enough." Bucky was about to make the point that they'd barely been talking for ten minutes but was denied the chance. Another clinking of glass sounded off, though not like before and he saw Steve had made his way to the center of the patio. He looked a bit tense.

"Um hi," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I uh, guess now's as good a time as any to start the toasts." That explained why he looked sick; while Steve had no problems charging headfirst into fights where he was outnumbered and outgunned he did have a problem with public speaking. "I've never been one for speeches so please keep that in mind." He took a sip of his drink, though Bucky knew it wouldn't do anything to calm his nerves. "As most of you know, I've known Bucky since we were kids and we've been through a lot together, but I always knew whatever we were dealing with, we'd get through it. That was something I never doubted. I also never doubted that I'd be the one who got to embarrass him at his wedding. Didn't think I'd have to wait a hundred years though." This remark was met with more laughter and Steve met Bucky's gaze across the room. "I always knew we'd be here someday."

Bucky shook his head; Steve's unshakeable faith and confidence never seemed to waver. He had no doubt that he was serious about that belief.

"Anyways," Steve continued, "before we got here, we-or more accurately I, got into a lot of trouble. Used to be a scrawny kid but that never stopped me from getting into fights." Bucky laughed a thousand vivid memories running through his head. "But thankfully, Bucky was never far behind  and bailed me out more times than I can count. Always was patient with my impulsivity, always there when I needed him and always willing to do what was right, even if it scared him." Bucky felt a blush creep up his neck at the praise. Steve's goal of embarrassment was being achieved. "He has always been an incredible person and knowing that, I was also sure that whoever he married would need to be incredible in her own right. I never knew who that was going to be, but now that were here, I can safely say that he did find someone who's pretty incredible. I mean look at the guest list, over half of us have needed Mel to stitch us back together."

Bucky squeezed Melody gently as she hid her face in her heads, face flaming. It was nice to see Steve embarrass someone else. "Hang on," he whispered to her, "he'll be done soon. Steve hates giving speeches."

As if Steve had heard him from across the room, he wrapped up his speech. "So even though it's much later than I thought it would be, I think it was worth the wait and I finally got to see one of the best men I've ever known settle down with a very gifted woman and I wish you both all the best while you start your lives together. To the bride and groom." Steve raised his glass in a toast and several others followed suit, a polite clapping followed the end of his speech and Bucky found his throat was a little tight.

Steve scurried away from the center the patio, drink empty and looking a little sick. "Go," Melody whispered to him, "go check on him."

He let go of her waist instantly and followed Steve. "Hey," he called after his friend, grabbing his shoulder."

"Sorry," Steve apologized instantly, "I just-."

"I know," Bucky said, grinning and yanking Steve into a rough embrace. "Thanks for being here."

Steve clapped him on the back. "Wouldn't have missed it." They let go quickly, hugging wasn't often a thing between them. In fact, if Bucky was remembering correctly, the last time they'd hugged each other was right before Bucky had gone off to Europe at the end of the Stark Expo. "You should get back to Mel," he said, "Sharon's taking the floor next."

 "Good, she gets to be embarrassed for awhile."

Steve smiled. "Am I allowed to watch that? I've never seen that woman get flustered."

"I have," Bucky said with a wink and Steve's face turned red.

"Come on man, really?"

"Saw an opening and had to take it," he replied, shrugging. "Why don't you come by us for a bit? I think Mel would like to comment on the speech too."

Steve glanced over Bucky's shoulder at the bride who was eyeing them both with interest. He opened his mouth to reply but stopped short as Sharon took center stage, looking a bit nervous as she fiddled with the clip in her hair. 

"Okay," she said, rocking back and forth on her thin heels a moment. "Please bear in mind, Steve had seventy years to prepare for this and I had two weeks. And yes, I know traditionally, the Maid of Honor is the one who gets to do this, but it was decided I'd get to take on this task since I've known the bride the longest. And with that in mind, I want to tell you all a story."

Sharon shifted her feet and Bucky tried not to laugh at the terrified expression that was flickering across her face. "I need to comfort my wife," a thrill went through him as he said that, "before she tries to run." Steve caught sight of Melody's expression and nodded, a silent approval to leave and Bucky made his way across the patio to Melody. "Easy," he whispered in her ear, "it can't be that bad."

Melody shook her head as Sharon continued. "While Mel was in the middle of her intern year, I was trying to convince her to take a weekend off and go out with me to a bar. I teased her when she said no, saying she'd never be able to fall in love and find a husband if she was always at work. I was teasing, but I got a serious answer. She told me that she never wanted to fall in love or get married. All she wanted was to be a great surgeon." Sharon sighed, "And that made me sad, hearing that but by then, I knew better than to push her. Mel has never been the sort of woman who changes her mind. But now it's her wedding day," Sharon's voice flattered a bit and Bucky saw tears in her eyes. "So Bucky, it's safe to say that you changed her mind. Speaking from fifteen years worth of experience that's a very difficult thing to do, so to you, I say well done. And as her oldest friend and someone who loves her very much, I also want to say thank you, for making her so happy. To close this out, I want to plagiarize Steve a little and say that I am incredibly happy you two found each other and I wish you guys the best. To Mel and Bucky."

Again, her speech was met with polite applause and Bucky felt Melody relax in his arms. "See?" he whispered in her ear. "Not so bad was it?"

Melody sighed and slid her hands over his. "So we've done the ceremony, first dance and speeches are out of the way. What's next?"

Bucky grinned, anticipation unfurling through him. "The wedding night comes next," he said, keeping his voice low so that only Melody would hear. "Any questions so far?"

"Yeah," Melody's voice hitched in her throat. "How long are we required to stay here?"

Bucky laughed and held her tighter. "Hang in there Mrs. Barnes," he was unable to keep the giddiness out of his voice. "Good things come to those who wait."


	81. Eight-One

Outside, the sky was turning light grey as night started to shift into morning. Bucky laughed as he saw it though the sound was weak. Recent activity has left him a little breathless. That, combined with the fact that they'd been awake all night left him feeling a little weak. Not that he minded, there were worse reasons to feel that way. He rolled onto his side and slid his arm over Melody's waist so that her back was against his chest. 

"What?" she asked, her words soft. 

"It's almost morning," Bucky informed her, absent-mindedly tracing her arm with the tips of his metal fingers. He couldn't feel the texture of her skin, but he could feel the bone underneath the fleshy tissue. He'd gotten more familiar with the capability of the sensors over the last few hours. "We've been awake all night." He propped himself up on his other arm, just enough so he could see her face. She looked tired, with her mussed hair, flushed cheeks and the pattern of bruises that were starting to become visible across her neck and shoulders. Even so, the sight made him happy. "Must have been a first for you."

"Well," Melody opened her eyes and brushed some of her messy hair from her face. "No, this was not my first time staying up all night. I did that all the time during med school."

"Oh and what did you do then?" He asked, grinning as he tightened his grip on her and laughing. "Dancing at clubs? Blowing money at carnivals? Riding in the back of freezer trucks with your best friend because they spent your train fare?" None of those things she'd done and he knew that, but the smile on her face made it worth asking those teasing questions. Bucky would never, ever get tired of seeing her smile. 

"Nah," she laughed, bare shoulders shaking in the grey light. "It was me, my human anatomy textbooks and obscene amounts of coffee. Or my pathology textbook or first aid. Always had coffee though. Real exciting huh?"

"Yeah" Bucky said dryly, giving her a brief kiss. It wouldn't turn into anything now, the hours before of talking, laughing and making love had worn them both out. "Very exciting, if you're a doctor."

"I wasn't a doctor then," she pointed out. "I was a med student." She sat up then, breaking his grip and before he could protest, she turned over and faced him. "Now I'm a doctor-Doctor Barnes."

Bucky couldn't stop the way his heart skipped a little when he heard that. Despite his fear that Melody taking his name could be dangerous for her, he couldn't deny how much he liked the sound of it. "Wonder what they'll call you now? I don't think 'Doctor Freezer' is going to work anymore." 

Melody shrugged. "Don't know, but it'll have to be something intimidating." Bucky scoffed and she gave him a stern look. "Hey, don't give me that. I'm very intimidating."

"I know that," he defended himself. "It's just a little hard to picture when you were underneath me and begging five minutes ago."

"I was _not_ begging," Melody shot back, though her blush gave away the lie.

"Did the meaning of 'please' change in the last few decades?" 

"Shut up."

"Yes honey."

Melody made a face. "Don't ever call me that again." She sighed and moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest. 

Bucky laughed and slid his arm around her waist again. "Noted," he bent his head, brushing a kiss along her shoulder. 

"Okay," she said, sounding both stern and disbelieving. "I get that you're a super solider, but seriously, three times is more than-."

"I'm human," Bucky reminded her, laughing. They'd had this conversation before. It was no less amusing to him now than it was then. "I just want to kiss you. I like doing that." He repeated the gesture, just to prove his point. "I also enjoy cuddling. Just for future reference."

"Anything else?" she asked, "besides cuddling, kissing and that thing I do when you're on top and I flip you over so we switch."

Bucky blushed as he recalled that. The first time she'd done that he'd been shocked, now it was a turn on.  "I still cannot believe you know how to do that."

"Sharon taught me, though I don't think she had that purpose in mind when she was teaching me." The grey light in the apartment grew brighter, turning a dull, ruddy orange and Melody laughed. "It's official, we have been up all night."

"Well, that was the goal." Bucky told her, slowly stroking her knotted hair. "Are you hungry? You didn't eat much at the reception." T'challa, with his seemingly never-ending generosity had also provided pretty decent food at the celebration the previous night, but Melody had barely touched any of it.

"I wasn't hungry then," she said, "but I could eat now. Are you offering to cook?"

"It's less of an offer and more of a safety precaution," Bucky said and the remark earned a sharp protest from Melody.

"I'm not _completely_ hopeless! I mean, I made it this long didn't I?"

Bucky laughed and sat upright, pulled the tangled blankets off them. "That's a fair point," he grabbed his boxers off the floor. "Go and get dressed, I'll throw something together."

Melody let out an overly dramatic huffing sound and stood up, stretching. Bucky noted she had a few scratches and bruises along her back and felt a smile come to his face. As a kid and later a young man, his parents had impressed upon him that it was never acceptable to leave bruises on a woman. Later experience had taught him this was a lie. There was one acceptable reason to leave bruises on a woman; they had to be from loving her. Though, he realized as he shrugged on a shirt and made his way into the kitchen, he probably could've been a little more observant about what he'd been doing at the time. If she'd had to go to work today, showing up like that wasn't exactly professional.

He gathered the basic ingredients together, barely paying attention to what he was doing, preferring instead to watch Melody. She was digging around in the dresser, apparently looking for something and a second later, she beamed, drawing out Bucky's red shirt.

"That's mine," he informed her, smiling as she shrugged on the garment which was quiet large on her. 

Melody smirked and sauntered over to the kitchen. "I'm your wife," she told him, "this shirt belongs to both of us. The whole 'what's mine is yours' thing."

Bucky grabbed a frying pan from a lower cabinet. "That's fair, besides, looks better on you anyways."

"Thanks." She leaned against the counter, watching him with a curious look on her face as he set the pan down over the burner. "What's the face?" he asked, which was a strange thing for him. Normally, Bucky was able to read Melody with ease. 

"I'm just really happy," she replied, toying with the two rings on her left hand. It was a habit she'd taken up ever since the night they'd gotten engaged. Briefly, Bucky wondered if she'd ever get used to the jewelry enough to gain control over the tick.  "I never thought I could be this happy." Melody glanced up from her fidgeting and to his surprise, he saw unshed tears gleaming in her eyes. 

"Life has a way of surprising you," Bucky told her, abandoning the stove for a moment to get closer to her. "Things have a way of working out in ways we don't expect." He slid his left hand over hers, the gold wedding band, a larger copy of hers, gleaming just a little brighter than the metal of his fingers. This had certainly been an unexpected event for Bucky, but probably one of the best of his life.

"What?" 

Bucky shook his head and squeezed her hand. "If someone had told me, two years ago that I would fall in love with the pushy doctor who kept bugging me every night about journals," he grinned at the blush that flooded her face. "I would've have never believed them and now she's my wife." Melody's fingers tightened over his hand, he could see the outline of her bones and feel the pressure she was exerting. Two years ago, he wouldn't have believed that was possible either. And yet it was possible. It was happening. "And I'm really, very happy."

Melody sighed and  turned her head so that he couldn't see her face. She muttered something, but her voice was so low, Bucky could only make out the last few words; "never have believed them."

"You'd never have believed what?" He asked, "That you'd get married?" She'd mentioned once to him that she'd never given marriage much thought and Sharon had echoed the sentiment in her speech the previous night. 

"I would never have believed that I could feel beautiful." 

Bucky's smile faded. If he lived another seventy years he'd never be able to think of John Frasier without being thankful he was dead and wishing he'd been the one to do it. The quick death he'd gotten was more than he deserved.  "Melody..."

"I wouldn't have believed it," she said, finally turning back to face him and he saw that she was smiling. "But it happened. You made me feel beautiful." Before he could say anything else, her warm hands were on his face, pulling him close and her lips were on his for a moment. A peck, a sort of kiss that was routine. Something that didn't need to be thought about because it was natural, done every day because that was how it was supposed to be. "I love you," Melody whispered as she broke away and Bucky smiled, holding his hand over hers.

"I know," he chuckled at the reference and Melody stepped back, rolling her eyes.

"Nerd," she said, a teasing grin on her face.

"Says the doctor."

"You have me there."

Now it was Bucky's turn to grin and he opened up the drawer dedicated to utensils and pulled out a spatula. With a quick flick of his wrist, not unlike what he did with knives, he handed the item, handle first to Melody. "Mrs. Barnes," he told her, "I think it's time I made good on that promise; want to learn how to cook?"

Melody took the spatula from him. "What's lesson one?"


	82. Epilouge: Seven Months Later

The sim flickered to life behind her, the glass walls turning into the scene of a car crash. The blue SUV was turned on it's side, shattered glass cross the black tar. Inside the cab, a forty-something year old woman hung from her seat, held in place by the safety belt, a nasty gash on her forehead. Several feet from the car, a man around the same age was on the ground, his arms scraped up and skin torn away by how far he'd skidded across the road. He was the one with the ruptured spleen, but the interns and third year residents watching her didn't know that, not yet anyways.

"As you can see," she said, voice carrying across the fairly silent simulation floor. "This is a very nasty car accident. You're driving by and you see this and of course, being doctor, you pull over to help. What's the first thing you need to do?" At that, hands flew up to answer her question. The white-coated students looking eager. That wasn't going to last long and she pressed a button on the small remote to turn off the sim. This thing would give them clues and Melody didn't want to give them that. They had a chance to look, now they needed to think on their feet. Trauma and emergency medicine required fast thinking. 

"Yes," she pointed to the resident in the front, a male who's name was Thomas, according to the embroidery on his white coat. "Doctor Miessia?" 

"You go to the victims-."

"Wrong." Melody interrupted. "Anyone else?" Hands went up again, but this time far fewer. They were starting to realize that Melody was living up to her promise that the training was going to be immersive, difficult and time-consuming. She called on a young woman in the back, far shorter than her colleagues. "Yes, you in the back?"

"Look around the scene and in your car for supplies, use what you have in the field to help-."

"Wrong again." Melody's voice cut across her and she saw the young doctor, perhaps an intern, given the startled expression on her face. "No, the first thing you do is search the area, this is an SUV, a family vehicle. All you see are two victims, but there's a high possibility there could be more." In the back, she heard a scoffing sound and she tucked her hands into the pocket of her white coat. She'd missed the garment in her time away from medicine. "Something you want to share?"

"Forgive me, Doctor, but I thought this was supposed to be a mass causality situation. The most you could fit into that sort of car is about five people, maybe six. That's not a lot of people."

"It is when there's only two of you there." Melody replied. "There's fifteen of you here, but only two of you will work on this simulation at a time. The rest of you will be in more traditional skills lab."

"That's not fair." The same doctor said this and Melody narrowed her eyes, taking a step towards him and then another. He didn't back away, though his eyebrows rose up in response.

"Don't worry, Doctor...?"

"Doctor Okafor," he replied.

"Well, Doctor Okafor," she said, her words clipped and firm. "You're going first." If this man wanted to question her methods, that was going to be his mistake. He was a resident, she was sure of it. An intern would have been fearful of an attending getting that close, but he wasn't. He had the confidence of someone who'd been around the block, but Melody knew with everything in her that he'd never done anything without proper tools, without an OR, a team of surgeons or nurses or medications. In this first round of training, he would fail.

His smug expression changed, becoming an excited grin. "Great, do I get to pick who comes with me?"

"No."

Melody scanned the crowd of interns and residents. Their surprised and indignant expressions were easy to read. Their coworker had been disrespectful and seemed to be being rewarded. "Who here can tell me what 'triage' is?" Hands shot up instantly, like rockets and Melody called on the first one she saw. "Yes?"

"It's a system used to classify urgency of wounds," she said, "red requires immediate attention, yellow can be delayed but it is still serious and green means that the wound is minimal."

"Name?"

"Zuri Rimes."

"You're in."

"Yes!" The excited response burst out of her and Melody narrowed her eyes. "I'll let it go this time Doctor Rimes, next time be more professional. The rest of you follow Doctor Zara, she'll be going over central lines with you." Some of the interns and residents rolled their eyes but Melody ignored it. They might think such basics were above them, but a strong foundation in the basics was what trauma was all about. No matter the condition or wound, basics like central lines almost always applied. 

Little by little, the class filed out, looking disgruntled and left only Doctor Rhimes and Oakfor with her. "Well," the woman asked, collapsing her hands behind her back. "What do we do?"

"Do your job, save their lives," Melody hit the button the remote again. Another modification they'd made to the sim was getting rid of the AI united. She didn't want students to be able to turn it off, hence the remote. In a few seconds, the grisly scene of the car crash was all around them. She'd seen enough car crashes to know this one looked pretty real. And she'd spent enough time in the sim itself to know how well it duplicated real-life traumas. "Keep them alive until help comes."

"That's it?" Rhimes said, her eyes growing wide behind her glasses. 

"You're doctors, save them."

"Where are our tools?" Rhimes asked, looking at the grisly scene with apprehension. "What do we have to work with?"

"Get into the simulation and find out," Melody replied. "You are not to leave the scene of the accident until help comes. Is that clear?"

"Yes Doctor Barnes," the male, Oakfor said, speaking over his coworker who looked very confused. She wasn't as arrogant as her partner, but she needed a reality check. She had enthusiasm which was good, but it needed to be dampened. She needed a reality check, a reminder of how fragile life truly was and how bitter it was to do everything and have everything not be enough. It wasn't a fun lesson to learn, but it was one of the most important ones a surgeon had to learn. 

"I'll be back, I want them alive when I return." And with no further word, she hit another button the remote and the glass door slid open, the image of trees and rocky hills still imprinted on it. Another button and it slid shut behind her and she was standing in a normal building and she jogged towards the elevator that would take her to the skyway and from there she'd walk to the ER. She had an hour before she planned to come back to the skills lab, she might as well be in her proper place.

As she walked, passing several other doctors, nurses and patient families navigating their way through, she paid them little mind. She had work to do, no one had paged her yet from the ER, but even on a day that wasn't chock full of serious illness or injury there would always be something to do in the ER. 

"Mel Frasier?"

She stopped short hearing her maiden name and turned around and what she saw made her heart stop. She hadn't heard that voice in eight years. Not since she was a third year resident. Sure enough, she turned and saw a familiar, but aged face looking back at her. 

"Son of a gun," exclaimed Doctor Aaron Thurston, her former teacher. "Mel Frasier!" He strode over to her on his long legs, wide eyes and his grey hair shining in the Wakanda sunlight that poured through the glass of the skyway. "What in the hell are you doing here?" he asked, beaming at her as he extended his hand. Much like her, Thurston wasn't one for hugs, even among colleagues. 

"Hello to you to Doctor Thurston," she said as she took his hand. "It's been a long time."

Her former teacher shook his head and blinked. "Sorry, yes, it's good to see you too, but you'll have to forgive an old man's impatience. I'm not as young as I used to be."

Melody laughed. "You don't look a day over thirty," she lied. With his long grey-white hair and lines around his eyes and mouth spoke of his true age. Which she realized, she didn't actually know. 

"Flattery was never your style," he noted, "you have yet to learn, you have to lay it on thin. Not to obvious which that was." Thurston's hazel eyes twinkled with good humor.  "But still, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you that. I thought you retired."

"I did," he answered, "but my nephew is studying here, I came to surprise him. Didn't expect to run into you, which brings me back to my original question: what are you doing here?"

"I work here."

HIs thick grey eyebrows flew up his forehead. "What? I thought you were at West Memorial."

"You've been a bit out of touch Doctor Thurston."

"Please, I'm not your teacher anymore, you can call me Aaron."

"Okay, Aaron," Melody tried out his first name, it felt strange on her tongue. "Well I'm not sure what you've been doing over the last eight years, but my life has changed pretty drastically since you last saw me."

"I heard," his voice became grave. "About the shooting and...I heard about John." Melody tried not to cringe. She'd lived with that secret for so long, hearing it talked about openly was something she was still adjusting to. Hearing it from someone who'd worked closely with John was even stranger. "Mel, for what it's worth, I never knew. If I had, I would never, ever have-."

"I know, it's alright. John fooled everyone, you have nothing to apologize for."

"All the same, I'm so sorry."

Melody shrugged. Apologies wouldn't do any good there this was concerned. "It's in the past."

Doctor Thurston slipped his hands into the pocket of his slacks, apparently at a loss for words. "So, what are you doing here?"

"What else? Surgery."

"Still in trauma?" he asked dryly, no doubt recalling the conversation they'd had eight years prior, when he told her, in no uncertain terms that she was wasting her talents on that branch of medicine.

"Of course. I'm actually part of a new program here. We're using digital simulations to train residents in mass causality protocol."

"I read about that," he said, "though I didn't see your name in the article."

"Though the concept of using the simulation for medical training was my idea, I didn't create the program itself. That's been more of the publicity since it's only been up and going for a month. We'll need more data before we can determine any results. I was interviewed for the piece, but I suppose you wouldn't have realized it was me."

Thurston frowned at her. "I don't recall seeing a Doctor Frasier getting mentioned."

"That would be because my last name is Barnes." 

His frown grew small and she watched as her former teacher's jaw dropped open in surprise. "You're married?"

"Yes." 

His gaze scanned down to her left hand and she sighed, holding out her hand so it could see the rings there. "May I get a better look? My eyes aren't what they used to be." Melody knew that already, it had been the reason he retired after her intern year. She obligingly held out her left hand and the lines around his eyes grew more pronounced as he studied the bands of metal. "Forgive me if this is offensive," he said, releasing her, "but the design seems a bit old. Did you get them at a pawn shop?"

"Never took you for a jewelry expert," Melody remarked, not the least bit offended. It was a fair observation, she was just surprised that Thurston knew that. And besides, it wasn't the worst comment she'd gotten about her ring; most of them had been rather snide about the small size of the diamond, as though that mattered.

"My nephew begged me for help picking a ring for his girlfriend," Thurston answered. "I picked up a few things on modern engagement rings."

Melody smiled. She remembered vividly all the photos of the boy had that adorned Thurston's desk. He had always been very close with this nephew. "Not a pawn shop, it's a family heirloom. James, my husband, it belonged to his mother."

"That's nice," he said, slipping his hands back into his pockets.  "Is the lucky man a doctor here?"

"No," Melody said, "he's Special Forces." This was the cover story she had at work to explain why no one ever saw her husband. It wasn't a complete lie. "I met him while he was on leave in New York."

"And you made long distance work? Well done!"

"Not exactly," Melody answered feeling sheepish. This wasn't a topic she ever thought would be discussed with Doctor Thurston. "He and I were together for a while, but when he deployed again, we broke it off. We reconnected about two years later and tied the knot eight months ago."

"Well," her former teacher blew out a long stream of air. "I suppose a belated congratulations is an order."

"Thank you."

"Forgive me," he said, looking a bit shy himself. No doubt he'd never imagined this conversation happening either. "If I don't sound enthusiastic, I'm very surprised."

"It's alright, so was everyone at the wedding."

They laughed briefly and then Thurston's expression became serious once more. "It seems you've been up to a great deal since I saw you. The simulation lab, that's very big. And Wakanda-arguably one of the most technologically advanced places in the world, another big accomplishment."

Melody smiled, uncomfortable under all the praise. He'd rarely bestowed it on her a as a student. In fact, the only time had was when she'd missed her intern exam and saved a patient's life in route to the hospital. She felt just as uncomfortable and pleased now as she did then. "It could help a lot of people," she said finally, "and I'm very glad to be a part of it."

"Where are you headed? OR?"

"Not yet," she said, "I have a an open hernia repair at two, and then I told a coworker that I'd take his amputation."

"That's ortho," he remarked. "You considering adding another specialty?"

"No, one specialty is more than enough for me. I'll be taking the lead on the case,  but I'll have another orotho in with me as an assist. Just a precaution."

Thurston scoffed. "I highly doubt you'll need the help. What is it?"

"Above the knee," Melody replied, "car crash injured the limb pretty badly, we tried to save it, but," she shrugged, "you know how it goes. Everything isn't always enough." Thurston had been a cardiothoracic surgeon in his day and he was well acquainted with that fact.

His hazel eyes darkened for a moment, lost in memories of people he couldn't save.   "Pretty straight forward," he said finally, "how long has it been since you performed one?"

"On a real patient or a simulated one?" Melody asked, grinning. "It's been a while with the real thing, but I use the sim fairly often to make sure I don't forget the routine surgeries. Provided everything goes as planned, my patient will be fine."

"I'm sure they will be. They have an excellent surgeon."

She resisted the urge to hide her face. "Thank you."

"Would you have a chance to grab dinner after work? I don't want to keep you but I would love to catch up while I'm here."

Melody shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'd like that too, but I have a previous engagement."

"Oh?"

"Dinner with my husband," she said, feeling blush rise in her face. Talking about her husband with her former teacher was weird. "We haven't seen each other for a few weeks."

"Aren't you allowed to visit him on the base?"

"I am, but with my schedule, I can't always make the time. It's over two hours away." At least when she wasn't flying and such a thing wasn't always easy to do. "We make do," she shrugged, "but I still miss him when I'm away."

Thurston chuckled. "I have to admit, I'd very much like to meet that young man of yours." Melody bit back a laugh, though James himself didn't look a day over thirty, he was much older than her. Older than her teacher. 

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather be alone with him."

"I understand," he grinned, "you're newlyweds." He winked then and Melody hoped her shudder wasn't visible. First she was discussing her father with her former teacher, then her marriage and now there were thinly veiled jokes about her sex life. That was enough strange for one day. Or perhaps one month.

"Thank you for being understanding," Melody said as she looked down at her watch. "If you'll be around on Monday, I'll be here, you can call the nurses station, they'll page me. Maybe we can grab lunch then."

He nodded. "Of course. I'll leave you to get back to your work." Melody turned away, ready to walk on towards the ER. But she halted as her teacher called after her again. "Mel?" 

She turned back. "Yes?"

Doctor Thurston rocked back and forth on his heels a moment, apparently at a loss for what to say which didn't line up with her memory of him at all. He had always been know for saying exactly what was on his mind, even to the point of being thought rude. "I didn't realize it then, when you were little, I thought you were just shy but..." He sighed heavily, "I was wrong. You were shy at all. You were scared."

"Doc-Aaron," Melody corrected herself, "I-."

"Let me finish." Thurston jabbed, sounding more like his usual self now. "You didn't have a happy childhood and I knew you briefly in your adult life. You were seemed better then, but you were still odd. Didn't have friends, didn't like to be touched. I don't think you were that happy then either." 

"I know, I was there. Is this coming to an end anytime soon?"

Thurston didn't look the least bit concerned about her discomfort. "What I'm trying to say is, are you happy? I know that might seem like an obvious answer, seeing where you are now, a brilliant surgeon and a married woman but I was wrong once. So now I want to be sure. Are you happy?"

Melody's discomfort vanished on the spot. Knowing what she did now, she knew that her former teacher was a type three surgeon. That brought the total she'd personally known up to two. "I am happy. Happier than I've ever been."

He smiled. "Good. Now go on, they're probably drowning in traumas."

"It was good to see you Doctor Thurston," she said, smiling. "And thank you."

Melody turned on her heel and went on her way again, knowing full well Doctor Thurston was moving away as well. Seeing him again was a surprise but it was a nice surprise. It was good to finally have a conversation with him, clear the air and be honest about his former friend and co-worker. It was nice. And it was nicer still, to know she couldn't spend more time with him after work, as she had other plans. She was going home for the weekend. She was going home to James. The thought made her feel as though butterflies were swirling around in her stomach, but they weren't the terrible sort that made her feel sick. These were the kind that made her feel like she was walking on air instead of tile. The feeling heightened and she reached into her pocket on an impulse, knowing he wouldn't answer the call but not caring all the same. He'd get the message before she got home.

Sure enough, the ringer died and went straight to a robotic female voice, but Melody felt a large smile pull at the corners of her face. "Hey, it's me. Don't worry, I'm fine. I just wanted to call and say that I'm really excited to see you tonight. Looking forward to dinner. I love you." She hung up then, still feeling giddy and took a left turn that would take her to an elevator which would again bring her to the ground floor where the ER rested.

As she got there, hitting the button and stepping inside the silver box, she couldn't stop her smile. Melody had no idea how her life had come together so well, but it had. She had everything she ever wanted and one thing she hadn't wanted but needed just the same. The elevator came to a stop and the shiny doors slid open and Melody, still wearing a wide, happy smile stepped out and made her way towards the ER. Though she had no data or facts to prove this, she had a very, very strong feeling that today was going to be a good day. There was no logical reason to think that, the day was still early and in a moment, the relative calm of the hospital could change, but that did nothing to diminish the feeling. Lack of logic or not, something about it felt sure and certain. Just like how she'd felt once, in her parents house when James's held her the first time. Not in his sleep as he'd done so often before, but intentionally, knowing full well what he was doing and she'd had the same feeling then. A sense of surety, that things were right even though she had no factual basis for that belief. 

She'd distrusted the feeling then, but now, almost three years later, she knew better. Some things couldn't be contained by a series of numbers and charts. Love, she'd already learned was like that. A hard lesson for her to learn, but a worthwhile one indeed. And despite the struggle the lesson had been, it was worth it. She was happier now than she'd ever dreamed of being- a worthwhile trade off.

 _And,_ she thought as she grabbed a chart from the nurse's station about a twelve year old with a leg injury in bed nine. _Soon, I'll have even more reasons to be happy. In a few hours, I'll be back in James's arms again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's official, we've reached the end of Nightingale, I hope those of you who got this far enjoyed it1 :) And a quick question, if I were to post a little thing of one-shots and extras related to this series, how many of you would be interested in me posting them here? Let me know in the reviews! And once again, thank you for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter! Thanks to everyone who's been leaving kudos on the work! If you can spare the time, please do leave a comment, there are few things I love more than hearing from readers! Thank you so much for reading! :)


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